Painted Elves
by Squishy Eeyore
Summary: The journey of one Dalish Warden. From beginning to end. M/M Warden/Tamlen, Warden/Zevran
1. Chapter 1

Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder rolled. Dark grey clouds gathered over the forest. A slight chill hung in the air as the clouds opened up and rain began to fall. A group of deer, three bucks and a doe, carefully picked their way over the slippery rocks of a streambed that wended its way through the trees.

High up in a pine tree an elf, tall and dark-skinned with a longbow slung across his back, observed them. He watched the deer's progress with both relief and puzzlement. Deer used to be plentiful here, it was why the clan moved to this spot, but this year they had been very sparse. When deer were finally found they were usually traveling in strange groups such as the one he was watching now. The elf could not recall ever seeing more than one buck coexisting peaceful, even if it wasn't mating season.

Lightning flashed and thunder broke directly over the tree the Dalish was perched in. He glanced up at the angry sky then shimmied gracefully down the trunk. Another elf, this one as fair as his friend was dark, was waiting at the base of the tree.

"Did you see them, Mjolnir?" The blond elf asked.

"Yes. They're not far ahead. We can catch up easily." Mjolnir hesitated. "…Another strange group. Three bucks and a doe."

His friend frowned, obviously perturbed. "It's like they don't want to travel alone…"

"Come on, Tamlen. The clan needs food."

"You're right."

Both elves readied their bows and Mjolnir inclined his head, indicating the direction the deer lay in. Tamlen nodded and they set off, moving silently. Though the thunderstorm would probably cover any noise they made neither wanted to risk it. The clan's supply of preserved meat was running low. They had to make a kill today.

A few feet from the stream Mjolnir held his hand up and Tamlen stopped dead in his tracks. Through the low-hanging branches Mjolnir could see that the deer had frozen in place. The animals were not looking in the direction of the two Dalish elves. They were looking off somewhere to the east. Mjolnir waited to see what, if anything, would emerge. He didn't want to make a kill only to have it dragged off by a bear. The dark-haired elf thought he heard a rustle of leaves before thunder destroyed all sound.

"What is it?" Tamlen whispered as the thunder tapered off.

"Quiet." Mjolnir hissed.

The deer remained frozen and Mjolnir thought he felt something pass by both them and the deer. No… "pass" wasn't quite the right word. It was more like something _slithered _by…

Whatever it was, it was gone now. The only sounds were the patter of rain and the rumble of thunder. The deer were starting to cautiously move again.

"Did you _feel _that?" Tamlen asked quietly.

"Yes."

"What was it?" The blond looked anxiously off to his right. "Maybe there's… something in the woods. That's why they're so different now. Remember the last time we came through here? You couldn't shoot an arrow without felling a buck."

"I remember."

Mjolnir glanced suspiciously off to the east before moving on, slowly following the deer, waiting for a clear shot. Tamlen moved up beside him, shivering. Mjolnir found goosebumps prickling his dark skin as well. They were both soaked to the bone.

"Up ahead." Mjolnir whispered. "The tree branches clear enough that we can get shots off. Simultaneously."

"Right. You want the left or right shot?"

"Left."

"All right."

In perfect sync, Mjolnir and Tamlen removed an arrow from their quivers. Thunder rolled, but it was quieter now. The storm was moving away. They each fit an arrow and waited, moving along mutely. They reached the spot Mjolnir had indicated earlier before the deer and stopped, standing side-by-side. The rain was beginning to lighten when the deer walked into Mjolnir and Tamlen's sights. They released their arrows in unison and two of the bucks fell to the ground, dead with arrows through their throats. The remaining buck and doe turned tail and fled into the woods.

"A week." Tamlen said, shouldering his bow. "We've been out here a week and only caught two deer. Last time we'd kill one or two a day."

Mjolnir nodded and crossed the small stream in three leaping steps. He removed his arrow from the buck's neck then picked the animal up, slinging it about his shoulders. Warm animal blood oozed down his side as he turned to see Tamlen crossing the stream a little unsteadily.

"I can take both."

Tamlen had fallen down an embankment a few days before and banged up his knee quite badly. It was still vividly bruised, blooms of purple and red on his pale skin.

"No." Tamlen reached down and removed the arrow from his kill. "I'll take it."

Tamlen grabbed the deer and hauled it up, draping it around his shoulders much like his friend had. He winced when he put weight on his leg and Mjolnir reached out to steady him.

"Ma serannas." Tamlen said, his cheeks reddening.

"You're all right?"

The blond walked a few steps and nodded. "Yes. It's not too bad now that I'm used to the weight."

"It's a long way to camp."

Tamlen smiled softly, "I'm fine, Mjolnir."

Mjolnir felt his cheeks grow warm and he nodded, crossing back over the stream, leaving blossoms of deer blood behind him on the rocks and in the water. He waited patiently while Tamlen crossed more slowly. He stared into the woods, wondering if they'd meet whatever had gone by. Far in the distance, thunder growled. The tail end of the storm was overhead now and weak rays of sunshine were starting to pierce through the clouds here and there.

"Ugh." Tamlen looked off into the distance. "We're going to have to walk right back into the storm."

Mjolnir nodded. "Yes. We should reach camp just in time to be in the eye of the storm again."

"Outstanding." The blond sighed. "Well? Let's go."

The dark-haired elf nodded again and the pair set off together, the rain becoming steadier and steadier as they left the tail of the storm behind them. Mjolnir would have been content to walk back to camp in silence. He was an elf of few words. Tamlen, however, was the complete opposite.

"You think Nara had any luck?" Tamlen asked. "She and Aljn went South. All the deer seem to be heading North. Odd, isn't it? It's not even winter yet and they're already on the move? And why in such odd groups?"

Before Mjolnir could decide which question to answer first, Tamlen plowed on ahead.

"And what was that… thing that was in the trees? Do you think that's what's scaring the deer? It was weird, but it's hard to believe that one thing scared most of the wildlife away. What do you think it was anyway? Did you see it?"

"No." Mjolnir replied, shifting his kill into a more comfortable position around his shoulders. "I don't know what it was."

"It felt… evil." Tamlen blushed and his tone grew slightly defensive. "You cannot deny that."

"No, I can't."

* * *

Night had long since fallen by the time they returned to camp. Just as Mjolnir predicted, the eye of the storm was directly over the area. Rain and wind lashed at the two hunters and the occasional smattering of hail rained down upon their heads. They were greeted at the edge of the campsite by Berha, a tall redheaded sentry.

"Just two deer?" Berha asked, his forehead wrinkling in concern.

"Just two." Tamlen replied. "Everything is fleeing North."

"Why?"

"We're not sure, but there was…" The blond glanced at Mjolnir. "…something in the woods."

"Was it a bear? Nara was attacked by a bear. Lost an arm." Berha said.

"What!?" Mjolnir and Tamlen exclaimed together.

"It was the strangest thing, Aljn said." The redhead replied. "They had just felled a deer when a bear rushed out of the woods. Tore Nara's arm right off. Didn't even care about the deer. It kept going after Nara. Thankfully Aljn killed it before it could kill Nara."

"Was it rabid?" Tamlen asked as a loud clap of thunder sounded over their heads.

"No. That's why the attack was so strange."

Mjolnir and Tamlen exchanged troubled glances. What was happening to the animals?

"Keeper says that Nara will be all right. She'll have to learn to fight with a sword instead though. Can't use a bow with one arm."

Silence settled over the three elves. None of them noticed the tempest raging on around them. Finally, Berha spoke.

"You should bring the deer to the west aravel." Berha said, pointing. "We're locking the game up until morning. Can't do anything with it tonight."

Tamlen and Mjolnir nodded and carried their deer to the aravel used only in occasions like this, to lock up much-needed food so scavengers of any kind couldn't get to it. Another sentry, this one a petite blond, stood guard outside the land ship.

"Mjolnir! Tamlen!" The sentry's face visibly brightened. "Glad you're back! You're the last to arrive! I was getting a little worried!"

"We're fine, Nethalennia." Tamlen grinned. "Just had a little trouble finding the deer."

The woman's face fell. "You and everyone else. Four groups came back with no food at all."

Nethalennia wore a silver key on a chain around her neck. She slipped the chain over her head and unlocked the aravel. Tamlen and Mjolnir peered inside. Two bucks and three pheasants were inside.

"That's it?" Tamlen asked, crestfallen.

"I'm afraid so."

Mjolnir hefted his deer into the aravel then helped Tamlen with his. Despite the long walk in the pouring rain, both of their armor was still stained with blood.

"Get cleaned up and go to bed. You two deserve it." Nethalennia said.

"I think we should go visit Nara first." Tamlen said as they walked away from the land ship.

Mjolnir nodded in agreement and they headed for the aravel that served as a clinic for the sick and wounded. Because of the storm the camp was nearly deserted. Only unlucky sentries were outside to wave at Mjolnir and Tamlen as they went by.

"Can we see Nara?" Tamlen asked the sentry posted outside the medical aravel.

"Yes, but be brief."

The pair nodded and Tamlen opened the aravel's door, stepping up inside. Nara was the only patient. She lay on a cot on one side of the aravel. A bloodied bandage was wrapped tightly around the stub of her left arm. The bear had torn her arm off right above the elbow. Keeper Marethari was kneeling beside the hunter, murmuring healing spells. When she heard Tamlen and Mjolnir enter, the Keeper looked up at them. Tamlen flushed slightly under her gaze. He knew she was still angry with him for not only brawling, but not giving up the names of his fellow brawlers.

"S-sorry to interrupt. We thought we'd visit Nara before turning in." He stammered.

"It is all right." The Keeper replied. "Nara is resting well. I think she will recover excellently."

Mjolnir suddenly spoke, making Tamlen jump. "Did either she or Nara say anything about something strange in the woods?"

The Keeper turned her sharp gaze on Mjolnir. "Nothing other than the animals all appeared to be heading North."

"We… felt something in the woods when we were hunting." Tamlen said. "Rose both our hackles."

The Keeper frowned thoughtfully, "You didn't see it?"

"No." Mjolnir replied.

"Troubling indeed…" The Keeper murmured, mostly to herself.

"Perhaps we should move North as well." Mjolnir said.

"Perhaps." Keeper Marethari looked down at Nara. "Abelas, but I must ask you to leave. I must continue healing Nara."

Mjolnir and Tamlen said their respectful goodbyes and left the aravel. The storm was still in full swing. A flash of lightning illuminated a small cluster of tents nestled between two aravels and Mjolnir cursed softly.

"What is it, lethallin?" Tamlen asked.

"I didn't set up my tent."

The blond laughed softly, "And you certainly can't sleep outside in this weather… though I'm sure you'd try."

Mjolnir shot Tamlen a sour look, but he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from curling into a smile.

"You're welcome to take shelter in my tent."

"Ma serannas."

Tamlen's small canvas tent was all by itself, sheltered between an empty aravel and a large boulder at the edge of the camp.

"I almost missed this stuffy old thing." The blond grinned.

Mjolnir snorted and followed Tamlen into his tent. The dark-haired elf tied the tent flaps tightly closed against the wind and rain while Tamlen lit a small lantern, bathing the inside of the tent in a soft golden light.

"Make yourself comfortable, Mjolnir. My tent is your tent."

Mjolnir smiled lightly and sat opposite Tamlen. He pulled the rawhide ties from his hair and began to unbraid the soaking wet strands.

"Guess I should have wrung my hair out before I came in." He said softly.

Tamlen laughed, "Don't worry about it. Come on. Let's get warm."

Buckles were loosened and undone as the two elves stripped down to the deerskin shorts they wore under their armor. They piled the armor in the corner furthest away from them lest any water or blood pool beneath it. Tamlen then tossed a green wool tunic to Mjolnir and pulled on a dark brown tunic of his own. The pair moved to huddle together on Tamlen's bedroll and the blond tucked a heavy animal hide blanket over both of their laps.

Outside, the storm howled on. Rain and wind beat against the sides of the tent. Thunder sounded just as loudly as before. It seemed the storm was content to stay right where it was. Tamlen shivered lightly. The meager flame of the lantern was slowly heating the small interior of the tent, but it would be a while before it was comfortably warm. Feeling Tamlen shivering, Mjolnir moved closer to his fellow elf and pulled the blond flush against his side. Tamlen smiled softly and leaned against Mjolnir, resting his head on the elf's shoulder.

They stayed like that for awhile, listening to the thunder and rain. The lantern light flickered, making their shadows dance on the side of the tent. It was Tamlen who moved first, tilting his head up to kiss Mjolnir's neck.

"Tamlen…" Mjolnir murmured.

"No one will hear in this." Tamlen purred. As if the skies agreed, thunder boomed loudly overhead. "And we didn't get any time to ourselves. I miss… us."

Mjolnir closed his eyes briefly and sighed softly. He and Tamlen had been lovers for nearly a year and it was a secret they both had to guard jealously. Same sex couples were generally discouraged. Keeping the clan's numbers up was almost as important as discovering and preserving their lost history. If the Keeper found out about them she would most likely force them to separate so they often used their food-finding trips into the woods to be lovers instead of the best friends they had to pretend to be around the others. But, as Tamlen pointed out, they hadn't had time to be lovers during their most recent excursion. They'd spent every waking moment almost frantically following animal tracks and had collapsed, exhausted, at the end of each day.

"You remember what happened last time?" The dark-haired elf asked.

Tamlen grinned against his neck. "You mean the one and only time we risked having sex in the camp? That 'last time'?"

Mjolnir grunted in confirmation, making Tamlen laugh.

"Fenarel almost caught us."

"Mmn." Mjolnir grimaced as if the memory caused him pain.

The blond laughed again, "That was different. It was a hot, sunny afternoon and we were barely out of the camp. It's night now and there's a thunderstorm… a very loud thunderstorm. We have privacy…"

Tamlen kissed the slightly salty skin beneath his lips again. Mjolnir shifted restlessly. Tamlen had a point. There was no possible way that Fenarel or anyone else would hear them or burst into Tamlen's tent in the middle of the night. And… he ached for the blond's touch. He too, missed being Tamlen's lover.

"Tamlen."

Tamlen looked up at him and Mjolnir leaned down, pressing their lips together. The blond moaned happily and lay back on his bedroll, pulling Mjolnir on top of him. Outside the storm raged on, swallowing the sounds of their passion.

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 has been edited to comply with ffnet's no-blatant-smut policy.**

* * *

Something soft brushing against his abdomen, tickling him, brought Mjolnir out of a deep sleep. He opened one eye and peered around at his surroundings. He was still in Tamlen's tent. It was filled with soft grey light so the sun was just beginning to rise. There was no sound of rain. The storm had moved on. Mjolnir grunted in surprise when the soft touch that woke him brushed against his hip bone. The elf lifted his head up to see Tamlen kissing his way downward, one finger hooked in his shorts, pulling them down.

"Tamlen!"

The blond winced then laughed softly and looked up at Mjolnir. "Shh. You're so loud…"

"What in the-"

"It's almost time for you to go." Tamlen whispered. "I wanted to give you something to remember me by."

**(EDITED- SCENE REMOVED)**

"By the Creators…" Tamlen sighed, rolling off Mjolnir onto his back.

Mjolnir wiped his chin with the back of his hand and smiled softly. "I will be thinking of this all day I assure you."

The blond laughed, "My evil plan has come to fruition."

The dark-haired elf moved over so there was room on the bedroll for Tamlen. The younger elf crawled over and lay on his side beside Mjolnir. He leaned over and lightly kissed Mjolnir's lips, noting that the elf had split his bottom lip again. The sight of it caused a flare of anger within him. That their "dirty little secret" made Mjolnir bite holes in his lip. He said nothing however. There was nothing to say. There was nothing they could do about their situation other than break off their relationship and Tamlen did not want to do that. Not even eventually when… no. The blond shook his head. He didn't even want to think about that.

The light filtering into the tent had brightened considerably. They didn't have long before the sentries changed shifts. This was when Mjolnir would take the opportunity to sneak out of Tamlen's tent. Although they could probably get away with Mjolnir being seen leaving Tamlen's tent neither really wanted to risk it. Within the clan, their relationship was something fragile, something to be protected.

"Help me put my armor back on." Mjolnir said, pulling off his borrowed tunic and laying it aside.

Of course, Mjolnir could put every piece of armor back on himself in record time, but he wanted to feel Tamlen's hands on his skin again even if it was only brief. Smiling, Tamlen nodded and sat up. The elf slid his shorts back on while Tamlen extracted his armor from the pile in the corner. The armor, which was made from thick animal hide, was still stained with blood here and there.

"What duty were you assigned for today?" Tamlen asked, bringing Mjolnir the armor.

"Since deer were caught I am to collect the gut with Master Ilen. He needs more bowstring."

"Only four deer were caught…" The blond said, tightening a strap on Mjolnir's armor. "…Better than nothing I suppose."

Mjolnir nodded and pulled his boots on. "And you, Tamlen? What did the Keeper ask you to do when we returned?"

The younger elf flushed, "Basket weaving with the elders. The Keeper is still angry with me."

Mjolnir felt a stab of guilt. He'd been the one who'd started the brawl after all. A hunter by the name of Caedmon had been running his mouth about Tamlen. As usual, the blond had just laughed off the criticism and insults. However, this had made Caedmon angry. He ended up shoving Tamlen and nearly knocked him over. Naturally this set Mjolnir off and he'd landed a left hook on Caedmon's jaw. The hunter fell flat on his back, completely dazed by the force of Mjolnir's strike. Both Caedmon and Tamlen's friends took that as a cue to start beating on each other. It was the dead of night and they'd been at the edge of camp when the fight erupted. Among the confused punching and kicking there were yelps of pain and soon the sounds of sentries rushing to the scene. Everyone scattered in a hurry and only Tamlen had the rotten luck of getting caught. He'd refused to tell the Keeper who'd been fighting and why, more to protect Mjolnir than his friends, and he'd been enduring her anger ever since.

"You should've turned me in." Mjolnir said.

Tamlen snorted, "The Keeper won't be angry forever, Mjolnir. It will pass."

Mjolnir slung his longbow and quiver over his back and leaned in to kiss Tamlen.

"I'll see you tonight." Tamlen said once the embrace broke.

Mjolnir nodded, unlaced the tent flaps, and slipped out into the early morning sun. As he expected the camp appeared deserted as the night sentries had gone to awaken the day sentries. He had plenty of time to find a new sleeping space.

Because of the storm everything smelled fresh and clean. Drops of water glittered on the grass and the leaves of trees. Mjolnir inhaled deeply and sighed in contentment. Long grass brushed against his shins as he walked partway into the forest. Not far from camp, but far enough that no sentry would have been posted, he came upon a clump of trees that the Dalish called 'Creator's Nest'. The branches all spiraled out from the trunk in a large bowl shape, forming a 'nest' in the middle. Mjolnir preferred to sleep in these trees though he was known to sleep in a pine or redwood if the branches were thick enough. He was the only one in the clan who didn't like to sleep in a tent or an aravel. Mjolnir had always been the 'odd man out' in his clan. He was the only one within the entire clan that didn't have skin as pale as the early morning's light and he was considered tall for an elf. There had been mutterings of him being "part shemlen" until the Keeper pointed out that if there had been shemlen blood anywhere in his ancestry that he'd have no elven features whatsoever. She also pointed out that while dark skin was rare among elves, Mjolnir's father had been dark-skinned as well. It was the only time she ever mentioned his father. It wasn't common practice in Dalish clans to speak of the dead. It was not just looks that set him apart from his fellow Dalish either. Aside from preferring to sleep in trees or on the ground, he also mostly regarded the shemlen with polite indifference.

Mjolnir selected the tree that looked the most comfortable and shimmied up the trunk. At the top he squeezed through the spiraled branches into the open space in the middle. He hung his bow and quiver from a branch and turned to the south, the direction everything was fleeing from. Mjolnir couldn't see anything, but when the wind blew from the south it felt… wrong. He didn't like it.

With a sigh Mjolnir sat down, making sure that he wasn't facing south, and leaned back against the tangle of branches behind him. Despite all the troubled thoughts in his mind he was tired and weary. His eyes did not stay open for long and soon he fell into a second deep sleep.

* * *

"Mjolnir! By the Creators… we'll have to chain him to an aravel…"

A familiar voice awakened Mjolnir and he cursed. The sun was high overhead and blazingly hot. It was approaching noonday. He'd overslept and either Ilen or the Keeper had sent Faelwen to find him.

"I'm here." He replied.

"AGH!" The voice below shrieked.

Mjolnir quickly stood up and grabbed his gear, wiggled through the branches, and slid down the tree trunk. A female elf with dark curly hair and high cheekbones stood not too far away from his perch with her hands on her hips.

"You scared me to death…" She muttered.

"My apologies, Faelwen."

Faelwen shook her head, "It's all right. Ilen is looking for you."

"I know." Mjolnir glanced at the sky. "Is he angry?"

"Just irate." Faelwen replied. "But I'd hurry if I were you."

Mjolnir nodded, turned, and rushed off. He was not surprised when Faelwen fell in step with him.

"So? When are you going to go on a hunt with me?"

Mjolnir inwardly squirmed in guilt and discomfort. He knew Faelwen was quite taken with him and fancied bonding with him. He'd been gently deterring her for as nearly as long as he'd been with Tamlen. He pretended that he was merely shy around women, but in truth he wasn't attracted to them at all. He enjoyed having them as friends, but no more than that.

"I don't know. I promised Tamlen that I would hunt with him again." Mjolnir lied.

"Tamlen, Tamlen, Tamlen." Faelwen sighed. "You two are attached at the hip."

Perhaps, but probably not for long. If you took too long falling in love naturally the Keeper often paired you with someone. He and Tamlen both agreed that when the Keeper paired them off that they would end their relationship. It wouldn't be fair to their women if they continued their relationship. But… it made Mjolnir cold and sick to think of that time that would soon come. He didn't like the thought of being without Tamlen.

"Mjolnir? Are you all right?"

"Yes."

Mjolnir left Faelwen looking confused at the edge of camp and he hurried over to Master Ilen's aravel. The elder elf had one of the deer caught yesterday on the ground. As Mjolnir approached, Ilen slit the deer's belly open with a steel dagger.

"My apologies for being late, Master Ilen."

"Here." Ilen held out a loop of intestines to Mjolnir.

Mjolnir grabbed onto the slippery rope of guts and watched as Ilen pulled the rest out inch by inch.

"Clean that, but first check on the sulfur." Ilen said. "Make sure the fumes are good and strong."

Mjolnir set off to obey Ilen's instructions. He didn't mind making bowstring with Master Ilen, but it was a time-consuming, dirty, and smelly job. He usually came away from it smelling like a rotting animal carcass that a bear shat upon.

Once Ilen removed all the intestines a burly hunter came and switched out the gutted deer for a new one. The gutted deer would be systematically butchered, the skin saved for armor and blankets, the remaining organs the Keeper would use to make potions and poultices, the bones and antlers would be fashioned into arrowheads, and of course the meat would be dried and preserved for food.

With the first trail of intestines cleaned and freed of fat, Mjolnir placed it in a barrel of warm water beside Ilen's aravel. It would take some time for it to be ready so he collected another loop and began the cleaning process all over again.

Noonday had come and gone before Ilen spoke anything other than orders to Mjolnir.

"Keeper says that you and Tamlen felt something in the woods."

"We did." Mjolnir replied, busy scraping the membrane off one of the properly soaked intestines with a blunt knife.

"You didn't see it?"

"No."

"Something is brewing in the south. The wind coming from that direction feels…"

"…Wrong." The dark-haired elf said.

"Yes." Ilen nodded, drawing his dagger along the belly of the last deer. "The Keeper tries not to let it show, but she is anxious. I think the clan may move north soon…"

Mjolnir nodded then glanced over his shoulder at the stairs that led down into the cooking pit. He hadn't seen Tamlen all day, but he knew the blond was down there with Ashalle and the other elders, weaving baskets. A small smile curved one corner of his mouth. He wondered if poor Tamlen had gone mad yet. Mjolnir had a seemingly infinite amount of patience and while he enjoyed hunting, he did not thrive upon it as Tamlen did. The younger elf had no patience whatsoever, especially for things he considered boring. According to the blond he lived for only two things: Mjolnir and hunting.

Mjolnir knew his lover well. At that very moment, Tamlen was certain that his head was going to burst from sheer boredom. He'd made exactly fifteen baskets and was currently working on his sixteenth. The blond wasn't very good at weaving. He kept pinching his fingers between the reeds and as much as he loved the elderly ladies he was with, he'd been listening to them gossip all morning. He was quite ready to flee into the forest babbling like a lunatic.

"Come on, Ashalle! Tell us!" One of the ladies giggled.

"All right, all right. Just keep this to yourselves. You too, Tamlen."

"I will." Tamlen replied automatically, cursing inwardly at the reeds that just wouldn't cooperate.

"The Keeper told me that she is going to pair Mjolnir with someone soon."

The blond froze and looked up at Ashalle. "…What?"

Ashalle seemed disconcerted by Tamlen's tone. "Mjolnir has been a Hunter for almost seven years. The Keeper thinks it's about time he bond with someone. She told me that Faelwen is the most likely candidate."

"Oh, how lovely!" One of Ashalle's friends smiled.

While the ladies converged on Ashalle and congratulated her the earth seemed to fall out from beneath Tamlen's feet. Until now, he hadn't been worried about the Keeper pairing them off any time soon. He'd foolishly forgotten that Mjolnir was older than him and had less time than he (Tamlen) did before the Keeper paired him off. He stood up abruptly making one of the elders actually exclaim in surprise.

"Tamlen? Are you… all right?" Ashalle asked.

Tamlen didn't reply. He threw the basket to the ground and his painstakingly woven reeds broke apart. Ashalle and the other elderly women stared at him, opened mouthed. Still without saying a word, Tamlen turned on the spot and jogged up the stairs, vanishing over the lip of the cooking pit.

"What in the Creators was that all about?" One of the basket weavers asked.

"Maea. Go tell the Keeper." Ashalle said.

The youngest of the elders nodded and stood, hurrying off as quickly as she could.

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

His work with Master Ilen was long from being finished, but the entrails had to be suspended in the sulfuric fumes for hours. So it was that Mjolnir was to be found elbow-deep in a deer carcass, cutting out the heart for the Keeper, when Maea came hurrying up.

"Keeper Marethari! Something has happened!"

The two women's voices were indistinctive to Mjolnir. All his concentration was focused on cutting out the heart without spilling too much of the blood it still contained. It was this blood that the Keeper used to make her most potent poultices.

"Mjolnir." The Keeper was standing over him and Maea was walking off looking rattled.

"Yes, Keeper?" The elf made two careful cuts.

"It seems that Tamlen has deemed my punishment for him too harsh. He has run off."

Mjolnir paused and stared up at the Keeper, completely stunned. Even when Tamlen found his chores to be boring or unfair he still did them. It was unlike the blond to just run away.

"Find him for me and bring him back please."

"Yes, Keeper."

Mjolnir finished cutting out the heart and slowly stood up. The Keeper took the heart from him and called for another hunter to help her remove the rest of the organs. Mjolnir wiped the blood from his arms and hands while thoughts swirled around in his mind. What had gotten into Tamlen all of the sudden? Why did he run off?

The elf picked his longbow and quiver up off the ground and slung both over his back. Figuring the cooking pit was the best place to start, Mjolnir jogged over to the east stairs on the side of the depression. Two hunters stood there chatting idly.

"Have you seen Tamlen?" He asked.

The taller hunter nodded and pointed to the forest behind him "I asked him what was wrong, but he ignored me. Just stormed into the woods. Didn't even look back… or take a weapon."

Mjolnir's stomach knotted. "He left his bow behind?"

"Yes." The hunter nodded at the pit and Mjolnir turned to see Tamlen's bow and quiver leaning against one of the wooden benches that circled the cooking fire.

What would make Tamlen leave his weapon behind and run into the forest? It wasn't simply him deciding that the Keeper's punishment was too harsh. There was something else going on here.

"Ma serannas." Mjolnir said, heading for the trees.

"Be careful." The hunters said in unison.

It didn't take Mjolnir long to pick up Tamlen's trail. The blond wasn't taking any pains to cover his tracks. He was merely stomping through the bushes and long grass like a drunken bear. There was even blood on a thorn bush that Tamlen obviously just walked through without a second thought. Mjolnir's misgivings increased. Tamlen was angry about something. Angry enough to run into the woods defenseless and not even care to watch where he was going.

Still following Tamlen's trail, Mjolnir slid down a muddy embankment and gently pushed aside bushes that were laden with small red berries. The forest grew denser the further he walked. Only a few rays of sunshine penetrated the canopy. Mjolnir shivered when he suddenly realized that, in his apparent haste to get away, Tamlen had veered south. It seemed that everything in the wood was fleeing from that direction. Just facing that way made the hair on Mjolnir's arms stand on end, but he wasn't about to leave his lover out here alone.

Mjolnir continued to follow Tamlen's footprints, broken branches, and bent grass. He was relieved to see that the small drops of blood Tamlen left behind stopped abruptly. The thorn bush hadn't cut him too badly then. The elf was just starting to think that he'd soon catch up to Tamlen when a single, low growl rumbled from somewhere ahead of him. Mjolnir quickly readied his bow. The sound was too light to be a bear. A wolf probably. It was strange to encounter one by itself… although strange seemed to be the norm these days.

The bushes to his left rustled lightly and Mjolnir drew his bowstring as far back as he could. His arm trembled a little from the effort of keeping the string taught. Suddenly, a furry shape exploded out of the undergrowth. A mad thing, snarling and drooling, aiming to knock Mjolnir over.

The elf swiftly sidestepped the attack. It was indeed a wolf and the momentum of its jump carried it far passed Mjolnir. He pivoted quickly and seconds before the animal could land Mjolnir's arrow punctured the base of its skull. The wolf hit the ground hard and rolled a few feet before coming to a stop. Mjolnir readied another arrow and cautiously approached the animal, ready to fire again. There was no need. The wolf was dead.

"What… in the Creators…?"

The wolf had come to rest on its side and as Mjolnir got closer he saw what looked to be a ruff of spikes growing out of the wolf's neck like a collar. The animal's lifeless open eyes were solid black like bottomless pits. Mjolnir prodded the carcass with his boot then promptly stepped back as the motion jarred the wolf's jaws open. A strange black ichor was seeping out of the animal's mouth. Was this some kind of disease? Is that what the animals were trying to outrun? A truly sickening thought came to him. Tamlen was out here all alone and with no weapon. Were there more wolves out here like this one? Had they already found him?

"No…"

Mjolnir frantically searched the forest floor, looking for Tamlen's trail again. He picked it up quickly, fit another arrow for his bow, and hurried off. He realized he was making enough noise to attract every wolf for miles, but he didn't care. He had to find Tamlen.

The sound of rushing water somewhere up ahead triggered a vague memory. The Run of the Halla, a series of small waterfalls, should be just through the trees ahead. He and Tamlen used to swim there when they were younger.

Mjolnir burst out of the woods, sending twigs and leaves flying every which way. He stood on the rocky bank of the river that the waterfalls poured into, blinking rapidly in the abrupt change from shadow to sunlight. The elf looked left and right along the riverbank and with great relief spotted Tamlen sitting on a large white rock near the base of the waterfalls. He was washing his scratched up legs.

"I figured she'd send you." Tamlen murmured, not looking up as Mjolnir ran up to him.

The dark-haired elf's relief turned into anger. "And it is a good thing the Keeper sent me too! What are you doing out here? Why are you going south? After what we felt in the woods? Do you know what I killed in the forest? It was not natural!"

The blond didn't reply and still did not look up. He merely continued cupping cold water in his hands and pouring it on his scraped legs.

Mjolnir's anger flared. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking."

The younger elf's tone was so dismal that Mjolnir's anger faded almost instantly. So… Tamlen hadn't been storming angrily through the woods after all. He'd been overcome by sorrow.

"Tamlen, look at me. What is going on?"

Tamlen sighed and slowly stood up. He faced Mjolnir, but did not meet his gaze.

"Ashalle told us 'the good news'. The Keeper told her that she plans to pair you with Faelwen soo-"

Tamlen was quite shocked to find himself cut off in mid-word as Mjolnir surged forward and caught him up in a rather furious kiss.

"I am not paired off yet." The elf growled against Tamlen's lips once the embrace broke.

"…Yet." Tamlen repeated, kissing Mjolnir's upper lip lightly.

Mjolnir's expression softened and he leaned down to touch his forehead to Tamlen's. The blond smiled weakly and brushed his fingers against Mjolnir's cheek.

"I'm just being foolish. We knew this day would come. I just… forgot that it would come sooner for you. I was blindsided and I wanted to go somewhere quiet. Abelas… for worrying you."

"Tamlen…"

"I'll always be yours, Mjolnir. Even when you're bonded to her, I… I will always be yours."

Mjolnir closed his eyes tightly, briefly. "I know."

"…Come on. Let's get back to camp."

But Mjolnir was most reluctant to let Tamlen go. He hugged the blond tightly against him and kissed him again, softly.

"Mjolnir…" Tamlen smiled sadly. "Come on. We have to get back. The sun will set on us if we stay here any longer."

Mjolnir released his lover and stepped back. He seemed to be considering something. Nodding to himself, he reached back to untie a rawhide string from around his neck.

"Mjolnir… no…"

A small intricately detailed Halla carved from wood hung from the string. Mjolnir ignored Tamlen's protests and held the necklace out to the blond.

"Ashalle gave that to you after you received your vallaslin. I can't take it."

"I want you to have it." Mjolnir replied stubbornly.

Tamlen shook his head. "I can't. It's yours."

"And I want it to be yours."

Mjolnir stepped forward and tied the string loosely around Tamlen's neck. The younger elf did not resist. His fingers reached up to close lightly around the wooden Halla.

"I…" The dark-haired elf shifted his weight, suddenly looking insecure.

Tamlen smiled, "I know, Mjolnir."

"…Let's go."

* * *

The sun was just beginning to set, turning the sky orange and gold, when Tamlen and Mjolnir returned. News of Tamlen 'defying the Keeper' had spread fast. A small crowd gathered around the two hunters as they entered camp. Mjolnir's stormy expression quelled any talk amongst the throng however and the pair proceeded to the Keeper's aravel in silence.

"Tamlen. Good to see you back." The Keeper said. "Leave us, everyone. Please."

"I must speak with you after, Keeper Marethari. It's urgent." Mjolnir said.

When he heard about the strange wolf, Tamlen had wanted to bring it back to camp… until he actually saw it that is. Neither of them wanted to touch it so they agreed that Mjolnir would tell the Keeper about it when they returned.

"Very well."

Mjolnir and Tamlen shared a glance then the dark-haired elf turned and left with the rest of the crowd. He spotted Ilen sitting by his aravel patiently twisting the treated intestines into fine but sturdy strings. He glanced at the Keeper and Tamlen, who were walking along the edge of camp, then made his way over to Master Ilen.

"Would you like some help, Master?" Mjolnir asked.

Ilen looked up and smiled, "No. Enough has been done for today. I'm going to finish this string then quit for the eve…" The elder elf paused briefly. "Why did Tamlen run off?"

"I do not know." Mjolnir lied.

Master Ilen chuckled softly, "Ah Tamlen. He always was a handful. He has a good heart though."

"He does."

Ilen's concentration shifted to twisting the last few feet into string and Mjolnir wandered away. He looked up at the darkening sky, it was a bloody red now, and sighed. Soon he would be without Tamlen, bonded to a woman he could never love the way she needed, no… deserved to be loved. He was not surprised that the thought was much more painful than his vallaslin, the tattoo the Dalish imprinted on their faces when they came of age. Mjolnir's was of a simple design, two symmetrical branches that curved up the sides of his face and ended with their boughs intersected on his brow, but the process was exceedingly painful. Crying out was seen as a sign of weakness so the recipient had to suffer in silence. Each tattoo represented a god or goddess in the elven pantheon. Mjolnir's represented Mythal, the Great Protector.

The scent of roasting pheasant brought Mjolnir out of his reverie. His stomach grumbled loudly. All he'd eaten that day was a piece of dried out bread and a handful of berries.

Ashalle and two other elders were busy roasting two pheasants on spits when Mjolnir came down the stairs. The two hunters Mjolnir had talked to earlier were standing on the other side of the fire looking hungry.

"Did you find Tamlen?" Ashalle asked as Mjolnir sat down beside her.

"Yes I did."

"Oh good." She sighed in relief. "I was so worried."

Mjolnir stared into the fire, watching the flames leap up into the sky as sparks.

"Did my parents love each other or were they paired together?" He asked abruptly.

"Y-your parents?" Ashalle stammered.

The other two elders shifted away from Ashalle and Mjolnir, looking uncomfortable, and began talking amongst themselves.

"I know that my father's name was Mjolnir as well and that my mother's name was Valadhiel. I know that they're dead. That is all I know. No one will tell me of them."

The elder elf sighed, turning the cooking spit slowly, obviously conflicted. Mjolnir did not look up from the fire. He simply waited.

"…They were not paired together." Ashalle said finally. "They fell in love the instant they met. Your mother was actually from a small sister clan that lived mostly in the Korcari Wilds. Your father and mother met at a meeting of the clans. After some controversy, and a lot of shouting, Valadhiel's Keeper allowed your mother to stay with our clan. They bonded officially a few months after that and then two years later…"

"I was born and they died."

"No…" The woman said softly, "Not quite."

Mjolnir frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I wasn't quite honest about your parents' death. What happened to them was… unpleasant and I wanted to spare you any pain."

The dark-haired elf finally looked up from the fire. He stared at Ashalle's profile with mingled anger and disbelief.

"What happened to them then?"

"Is this… really a good time?"

"Is it ever a good time?" Mjolnir snapped.

Ashalle recoiled from Mjolnir's anger and the young elf's insides immediately squirmed with guilt.

"I… my apologies, Ashalle."

"No." The elder shook her head. "Don't apologize. You have a right to be cross. Secrets have been kept too long."

Ashalle sprinkled some spice over the bird she still slowly rotated with one hand. Mjolnir went back to looking at the bright orange flames of the fire and he waited.

Rather reluctantly, Mjolnir thought, his surrogate mother spoke once more. "Your parents did not die together as I told you they did. Your father… bandits attacked him and your mother one day. She was still heavy with child and your father fought hard to protect her but… they overwhelmed him."

"Bandits." Mjolnir echoed. "Humans killed my father?"

"Some were human, yes, but there were a few flat-ears as well. Nearby hunters heard your mother's screams and came to her rescue. They brought your father's body back with them. He is buried somewhere north of here beneath an Ash tree.

Mjolnir crossed his arms over his stomach. He felt a little sick.

"Your mother… she hung onto life long enough to give birth to you. She asked that you be named after your father then just… walked into the woods one night and never came back. The clan searched for weeks, but no trace of her was ever found."

"So… my mother abandoned me." Mjolnir said hollowly.

"Valadhiel survived the attack, but I believe she died with your father that day. Without him, she couldn't live."

"I see." The dark-haired elf thought of Tamlen. If his lover died… would he, Mjolnir, be like his mother? Would his spirit die?

"Mjolnir…?"

"Thank-you… for telling me."

Ashalle nodded and removed her pheasant from over the fire, sliding the cooked bird onto a stone platter.

"Gildred. Tell everyone that dinner is ready." She said.

The tall hunter on the other side of the pit nodded and jogged off.

"Something smells good, Ashalle." Tamlen's voice said.

Mjolnir looked over his shoulder to see the blond approaching. He was smiling so obviously the Keeper hadn't been too hard on him.

"Roasted pheasant, rabbit stew, and groundroots." Ashalle replied. "Some of your favorites."

"I'm sorry for running out on you, Ashalle." Tamlen said, sitting beside Mjolnir. "I…"

The woman smiled and waved her hand. "There's no need to explain."

"Ma serannas… Mjolnir? Are you all right?"

"Yes."

Tamlen leaned forward, frowning at the expression on Mjolnir's face. Ashalle froze when the firelight illuminated the charm dangling from the necklace around the blond's neck. It was the Halla she'd given Mjolnir so many years ago. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it quickly. Everything made sense now. She had assumed that the young and rather impetuous Tamlen had a tantrum that afternoon. That he felt the Keeper's punishment for brawling was too boring or hard. But that wasn't it… was it? He and Mjolnir were in love (Mjolnir wouldn't have given Tamlen the necklace otherwise) and her news of Mjolnir's impending mate-to-be had upset the blond. Ashalle turned away from the pair and slowly began cutting the pheasant's meat from the bones. She knew that anguish. She herself was barren so her husband had been paired with someone else. Her life was not all pain though. She had been giving the task of raising the clan's orphans, like Mjolnir. Her happy memories with him and her other children outweighed the pain of losing her husband to another.

"You sure you're all right? You look… sick."

"I will tell you later." Mjolnir said, getting to his feet.

"Mjolnir, don't you want to eat?" Ashalle asked.

"I'm… not hungry."

All Mjolnir wanted to do was be somewhere quiet. The irony was not lost on him. But… first he had to report to the Keeper. He still had to tell her about the wolf. Leaving both Tamlen and Ashalle looking worried, he left the cooking pit and returned to Keeper Marethari's aravel. A hunter had brought her some stew in an elaborately carved wooden bowl and she was busily eating when Mjolnir approached.

"You said your news was urgent." She set her bowl aside.

"It is." Mjolnir told her of the wolf. The spikes growing from its skin, the blackness of its eyes, and the ichor seeping out of its mouth.

Even in the deepening twilight Mjolnir saw the Keeper's face whiten. "It can't be… after all these years… again, it has come…"

Mjolnir wondered what she was talking about, but it wasn't his place to ask.

After a long pause, in which the Keeper stared intensely to the south, she finally spoke. "Thank-you for telling me. Please, get yourself some supper."

"Thank-you, Keeper."

Mjolnir did not go back to the cooking pit however. He headed for the edge of camp. He'd find a nice quiet spot in a tree somewhere and let both body and spirit rest. It had been a long day.

The elf had just barely left the campsite when he heard movement behind him. There was no time to ready his bow so Mjolnir tugged his dagger from the sheath at his hip and whirled around.

"It's me, lethallin!" Tamlen exclaimed, holding his hands up.

Mjolnir sighed and put his dagger away. "Abelas."

"No need to be sorry." The blond grinned. "I'd be disappointed if I could sneak up on you."

The older elf smiled weakly.

"I followed you because… well… we've had a rocky day."

"You can say that again."

"I'd prefer to kiss you instead…"

Mjolnir's smile was a bit stronger and he clasped the back of Tamlen's neck as the blond leaned in and kissed him.

"Come on. We'll find an great old Creator's Nest and watch the stars come out."

The dark-haired elf nodded and they headed deeper into the woods together.

"You got your bow back." Mjolnir said, nodding to the elaborate longbow across Tamlen's back.

"Indeed I did. I was surprised Gildred didn't steal it. He's always had bow envy." Mjolnir laughed softly and Tamlen grinned. "Now that's what I like to hear."

"What did you tell the Keeper?"

"What she wanted to hear." The younger elf replied. "That I thought basket making was too hard and I took off to hunt instead."

"And what did she say?"

"She lectured me on clan unity and harmony and how I disrupted that by fighting and that I should accept my punishment. I think I accepted her rebuke meekly enough as she just put me back on basket-weaving duty."

The pair soon came upon a Creator's Nest that was easily forty feet tall. Mjolnir was better at climbing trees so he made Tamlen go ahead of him in case he had to catch the blond.

"Ughn." Tamlen squeezed himself through the branches at the top then turned and clasped onto Mjolnir's hand, tugging the elf through.

"You climb like a three-footed oxen." Mjolnir teased.

Tamlen laughed and gave a little bow, "Ma serannas!"

The two elves set their weapons aside and sat down together, backs resting against the branches behind them.

"So… are you going to tell me what's wrong?" The blond asked.

"I asked Ashalle of my parents."

"Again? Did she tell you anything this time?"

"…She did."

"…And? What did she say?"

"She lied about my parents' death. They did not die together. My father died first when mother was still pregnant with me. He was killed by bandits."

"Shemlen bastards." Tamlen growled.

Mjolnir did not bother to correct him. "Mother… abandoned me. Ashalle says that her spirit died with my father and she couldn't go on without him."

"Mjolnir… I'm sorry."

The dark-haired elf laughed bitterly, "I do not know why it bothers me so much. I don't remember my parents at all."

"It bothers you because it's upsetting." Tamlen said. "Whether you remember them or not."

Mjolnir grunted softly in reply.

"But… you have Ashalle and… me and… and Faelwen. You've always had a family and always will."

"Yes…"

Tamlen smiled softly and squeezed the nape of Mjolnir's neck lightly. "Too much information in one day to process."

"Indeed." Mjolnir nodded.

The blond glanced up at the sky. The dark blue sheen was fading to black and the Guiding Star was already twinkling merrily to the north.

"Come. Lie down with me…" Tamlen said, tugging lightly on Mjolnir's wrist. "Tonight, it's just us."

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

He was in the woods again. It was dark, not even the stars were visible in the sky, and the bushes all around him were alive with sound, growling and snarling. Mjolnir reached for his bow, but it wasn't there. A scream echoed in the distance and fear clawed at the elf's stomach. Tamlen!

Before he could take a step forward wolves burst forth from the bushes, surrounding him. Their eyes were dark pits. Strings of vicious black fluid dripped from their mouths. Tamlen's screams in the distance went on and on. Mjolnir feinted to the left and tried to dodge by the wolves in front of him, but they were too quick. They fell upon him and their jaws clamped down on his limbs. His screams joined Tamlen's. The wolves were tearing him apart.

Mjolnir awoke with a jolt. The pain in his wrist was not from a wolf's jaws, but from the fact that he'd been lying on it. The elf sat up and rubbed his eyes blearily. Birds were singing in the trees and he could feel the sun on the back of his neck. Late morning.

"Tamlen?"

With a second jolt Mjolnir realized that both Tamlen and his longbow were gone. The blond's scent hadn't yet faded from the air. He hadn't been gone long. Perhaps he'd spotted game from their perch and hadn't had time to wake Mjolnir? The dark-haired elf left his own bow behind for now and carefully climbed up the curved branches. At the top he found a solid branch to stand on and he scanned the forest below. His eyes narrowed as he spotted someone down in the valley below. It wasn't Tamlen. It was a human running as fast and as hard as he could. Two more humans were straggling behind the first, tripping over nearly everything in their haste.

"Dammit." He spotted Tamlen, heading straight for the valley, obviously intending to cut the humans off.

Mjolnir turned and dropped back down into the hollow in the center of the tree. He grabbed up his longbow and scampered down the tree trunk as quickly as he could. He scraped all the skin off the insides of his knees, but he hardly noticed. Tamlen's common sense and good nature all but flew away when he was around shems. Mjolnir had to intervene quickly.

The elf didn't think the humans were any threat, but he readied his bow anyway. For all he knew those three could be running from something truly insidious. His dream of the wolves was still fresh in his mind. He didn't want to be taken by surprise.

"Let us pass, elf. You have no right to stop us!" A voice up ahead shouted.

Mjolnir sped up, running deftly down the rocky uneven embankment into the valley. Only a small patch of thorn bushes now separated him from Tamlen and the three humans. All three shems had red hair of varying shades and were dressed in typical peasant's clothing. Not a threat as he suspected.

"No? We will see about that, won't we?" Tamlen replied.

The humans nor Tamlen had seen him yet. Bow still at the ready, Mjolnir moved in to flank Tamlen.

The blond smiled briefly at him. "You're just in time. I found these… humans lurking in the bushes. Bandits no doubt."

But Mjolnir did doubt. The humans were not armored or armed. One in back was a pale grey and looked like he might faint at any moment. Mjolnir's sharp gaze scanned the woods behind them. He saw nor sensed anything, but he still doubted these three were bandits of any kind.

"We aren't bandits, I swear!" The leader of the scared trio exclaimed. "Please don't hurt us!"

"You shemlen are pathetic." Tamlen growled, advancing toward the small group. "It's hard to believe you ever drove us from our homeland!"

Mjolnir pursed his lips and he followed Tamlen's lead, though he didn't want to. He didn't like this side of Tamlen. It just wasn't the elf he knew. It was like an impostor wearing Tamlen's face when he got like this.

"W-what? W-we've never done nothing to you, Dalish! We didn't even know this forest was yours!" The human behind the leader said in a squeaky voice.

"This forest isn't ours, fool." Tamlen sneered. "You've stumbled too close to our camp. You shemlen are like vermin… we can't trust you to make mischief."

Mjolnir's jaw clenched. The pale human in the back caught sight of the expression on Mjolnir's face and went even paler.

"What do you say, lethallan?" Tamlen asked him. "What should we do with them?"

"Let's find out what they're doing here."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does." The dark-haired elf replied in a tight, quiet voice.

Tamlen paused, staring at Mjolnir. The grey-faced human in the back took advantage of the moment of silence to speak up.

"Look, we didn't come here to be trouble. We just found a cave."

"Yes, a cave! With ruins like I've never seen!" The leader added. "We thought there might be uh…"

"Treasure?" Tamlen interjected, turning his attention back to the humans. "So you're sneak thieves instead of bandits."

Mjolnir nearly sighed with frustration. Not sneak thieves. Not bandits. Treasure hunters. Thrill seekers. That explained why they were in the woods, but why had they been running like their feet were on fire and their arse was catching? The elf scanned the tree line again, but still nothing. Hopefully they had outrun whatever had been chasing them.

The elf finally turned his full attention to the three humans in front of him. The leader had something shiny clutched in his hands. If that was what Mjolnir thought it was this could end without incident.

"If you've been to these ruins, you should have treasure to prove it."

"Y-yes. I have proof right here! We found this just inside the entrance."

After glancing at Mjolnir to make sure he still had his weapon trained on the three men Tamlen lowered his bow and stepped forward. He held his hand out to the human and the man pressed a small carved figure into the blond's palm. The shemlen retreated quickly and Tamlen looked the small figure over. He turned the artifact over and froze, his eyes fixed on the base.

"This… this is elvish! Written elvish!"

Eager to placate Tamlen, the leader hurried to speak. "There's more in the ruins! We didn't get very far in though…"

"Why not?" Mjolnir asked.

"There was a demon! It was huge, with black eyes! Thank the Maker we were able to outrun it!"

Tamlen and Mjolnir exchanged a brief glance. They were both thinking of the wolf with the ruff of spikes and bottomless eyes.

"Where is this cave?" Tamlen asked, bringing his bow up again.

All three humans backed up a step.

"Just off to the west I think."

Mjolnir felt a bit of relief. He'd been expecting them to point to the south.

"Yes. Somewhere to the west." The shem in the back said. "There's a cave in the rock face."

"Well?" The blond glanced at Mjolnir. "Do you trust them? Shall we let them go?"

"They won't bother us." Mjolnir replied. "Let them go."

"Thank-you!" The leader smiled in relief. "Thank-you so much! You'll never see our faces again, I promise!"

All three men turned tail and fled almost as fast as any deer. Mjolnir lowered his bow and stepped in between Tamlen and the retreating shemlen, facing his younger lover. The blond looked as if he might speak, as if they might finally talk about Mjolnir's 'strange behavior'. Tamlen said nothing however. He merely lowered his bow and watched as the shemlen vanished into the forest.

After a long pause, Tamlen spoke. "…Well, shall we see if there's any truth to their story? These carvings make me curious."

Despite his anger, Mjolnir couldn't help but feel curious too. The last piece of elvish lore had been discovered some twenty odd years ago. New ruins could uncover more of their history.

"Very well, but we must be cautious." The older elf said.

"Always the careful one." Tamlen smirked. Without the shemlen around the blond was his old self again.

"One of us has to be." Mjolnir replied.

"I'm stung! Hurt!" The blond laughed and he shouldered his bow. "I'll never recover."

Mjolnir found himself smiling, "I'm sure you'll get over it. Come on."

As the humans were just running to get away it was easy to follow their trail back through the forest. Mjolnir was not surprised to see that the path actually led them southwest instead of true west.

"I thought we knew these forests well." Tamlen murmured.

"As did I." Mjolnir replied, stepping over a bush that the humans had trampled.

"This… 'demon'… do you think it's another one of those wolves? Do you think that's what we felt in the forest too? An animal like that?"

"I do not know."

They pushed through a dense patch of bushes and stopped side-by-side. Sure enough in the rocky face of the valley there was a mouth of a large cave.

"Well… let's check it out."

Mjolnir hesitated. His earlier curiosity had faded into uncertainty "I think we should go back…"

"We came all this way. We should at least take a look around." Tamlen argued. "And the wolf you killed went down with one shot. We can handle it, right?"

The dark-haired elf thought of his dream. "I…"

"Just a look around." Tamlen wheedled. "Come on. We'll be clan heroes if we find something good!"

Mjolnir sighed. He never could say 'no' to Tamlen, "All right."

"Right." The blond grinned. "Let's go."

The pair fit an arrow for their bows and slowly entered the cave. It was not a cave formed by nature. It looked like long ago someone had dug into the valley face. Mjolnir could see the tool marks on the walls. Thieves trying to tunnel into a treasury? Invaders penetrating defenses? Or maybe this was the original entrance to the ruin and it was carved out by the builders.

Goosebumps broke out on Mjolnir's arms. The closer they walked to the hole in the back wall of the 'cave' the colder and damper the air got. A light mist was actually seeping out of the opening and even though they weren't deep underground the air smelled stale and… there was another long-lingered odor that Mjolnir couldn't quite place.

Tamlen cautiously approached the break in the back of the cave and peered in.

"Empty." He said, glancing at Mjolnir over his shoulder. "No 'demons' yet."

"Yet." Mjolnir said darkly.

Tamlen chuckled wanly and stepped through the opening into the ruins beyond. Mjolnir followed closely, ready to fire an arrow at anything that moved. Tamlen was right however. The small room they'd entered was empty. Tamlen was examining a nearby pedestal with what looked like a large piece of quartz on top of it. The stone was glowing a pale blue and Mjolnir realized that it was what was used to light the underground ruin.

"A glowstone." Tamlen said. "I heard the Keeper speak of them. Mages use them. This one is finally 'dying'. That's why the light is so odd…"

Tamlen straightened up and looked over at a rotten wood door that was almost falling off it's hinges. The stone corridor beyond the door was lit with the same sickly blue light. Mjolnir noticed that the roots of the poplar and redwood trees above had snuck into the ruin, cracking the walls here and there. Some of the roots had even made big enough holes that sunlight was weakly streaming through.

"Whatever this place is, I don't think it's very big." Tamlen said. Mjolnir was somewhat dismayed to see that the blond had wandered into the corridor without him noticing. "I wonder… oh…"

"What?" Mjolnir asked.

"Bones. Human and elven."

Mjolnir joined Tamlen in the passage. Three skeletons lay at the far end of the corridor, two human and one elven. One of the human skeletons had a sword sticking through its ribs.

"Look…"

The dark-haired elf turned to see Tamlen picking up another one of the statues the humans had and there were two more sitting on a low stone pedestal.

"I wonder what these are? And why so many…?"

Since he already had one figurine Tamlen put the one he'd picked up back.

"These ruins look human." Mjolnir said. "Yet… there are elven artifacts here… and elves. Did humans and elves live together underground? Or were the elves slaves?"

Mjolnir looked back at the skeletons. Now he recognized that lingering odor. Death. It was as stale as the rest of the air in this ruin, but it was still there.

"We should get out of-"

But Tamlen was already cautiously peeking around the next corner. "Nothing. Just another empty hallway. I really wonder what this place was. No furniture to be had. Just looks to be an empty labyrinth of hallways and rooms."

"Perhaps it _was_a labyrinth." Mjolnir said grimly.

"Always my ray of sunshine, Mjolnir." Tamlen replied, smirking slightly. "Come on. Everything seems to be quiet."

Weapons at the ready, the pair walked through empty corridor after empty corridor. Occasionally they came across an empty room, but no more artifacts and thankfully no 'demons'. All they encountered were more bones, both human and elven. Mjolnir estimated that at least twenty humans and thirteen elves had died down here. He began to wonder how they all met their fate.

"The corner up ahead goes left. I think this place is one big rectangle." Tamlen said. "I think we'll end up right back at the beginning."

Although he was glad that they'd soon be back in the forest Mjolnir was also a bit disappointed. He'd been hoping to find something that would shed a little more light on their history.

"Hey! Look at this!"

Tamlen took off around the corner and Mjolnir quickly followed. Against the wall stood a statue carved from stone. It was of an elf. A male with a strikingly handsome face, but with strange spindly arms and legs that were much too long for his body. He wore an elaborate headdress and cloak. A large bronze spear was clutched in one stone fist. The statue's immense age showed. The stone would have once been glossy and dark, but it was worn, dull, and cracked now. It also looked like the statue might lose its nose in the next year or so.

"It's worn… but…" Mjolnir glanced at Tamlen. "Falon'Din."

The 'Friend of the Dead'. The elven God of Death and Fortune. The deity represented by the vallaslin on Tamlen's face.

"Why would this be here?" Tamlen murmured.

Mjolnir shrugged. "Maybe… this was a place of worship?"

"But there were humans here. Why would humans worship an elven God?"

The dark-haired elf shrugged again. A small noise caught both their attention. It came from the far end of the corridor. Both Mjolnir and Tamlen turned, readying their arrows in an instant. The corridor ahead was dark. The glowstone there had 'died'. The sound came again. It was like metal scraping on stone.

"What is that…?" Tamlen whispered.

The blond uttered a small cry of shock when he got his answer. Out of the gloom came two skeletons, each wearing badly rotted bits of armor. The first was an elven corpse, clutching a dagger in its bony hand. The second was human and dragging a two-handed sword as it walked forward. The blade tip scraping along the ground is what made the noise. Sparks flew every time the metal moved across the floor.

"What do we do?" Tamlen asked.

Mjolnir replied by letting his arrow fly. It struck the elven skeleton between the eye sockets and its skull exploded into tiny bits of dust and bone. In an almost graceful motion, the corpse slumped to its knees and fell onto its side. Tamlen's arrow hit the human corpse in the breastbone. The aged armor and bone broke apart as easily as fine china, leaving a huge hole in the creature's chest. The skeleton stumbled backwards then kept coming forward. Tamlen's next arrow struck it right in its toothy grin and its head broke apart just as the first corpse's did. It too, fell to the ground.

Tamlen lowered his bow, his hands shaking a bit. "Walking corpses… the veil must be thin here. It makes sense… there was enough death here judging by all the bones."

Mjolnir didn't take his eye off the fallen skeletons. "The veil?"

The younger elf smiled sheepishly. "I kind of… snooped around in Keeper Marethari's trunk. I was curious about all the scrolls she's always reading. Anyway, I came across one that said when there's so much death and destruction in our world if may tear the veil. That's the… curtain, if you will, that separates us from the Fade."

"I see…"

"I wonder if the shems saw one of these and thought it was a demon?"

Mjolnir shook his head, "I don't know… maybe…"

A brilliant shine in his peripheral vision caught Tamlen's attention. He turned to see another rotten wooden door stood slightly ajar. Inside, something was sparkling brilliantly in the pale light of the glowstones.

"Mjolnir… I think we just found something great…" Tamlen whispered.

Without waiting for Mjolnir's reply, Tamlen pushed the door open. A large silver-framed mirror stood in the middle of a circular room. Unlike the rest of the ruins, it didn't show its age. Both its frame and its glass surface sparkled brightly despite the dull light in the room.

"Wow…" Tamlen murmured, walking toward the object with a spellbound look on his face.

Mjolnir saw a blur of bloody flesh and spikes as a large shape charged out of the dimness and bore down on Tamlen. His stomach knotted.

"Tamlen! Look out!" He cried, shoving the blond out of the way.

The dark-haired elf cried out in pain as the thing's long, curved claws dug into his shoulder. It wheeled him around and he came face-to-face with the creature. It was a monstrous bear that looked like it had been turned inside out. Foot long spikes protruded all along its body and its eyes were pitch black. This truly was the demon the shemlen saw.

"Mjolnir!"

An arrow whistled through the air and clipped one of the bear's ears. It roared and wrenched its claws free of Mjolnir's shoulder. His armor had taken most of the damage, but the bear's claws had managed to puncture his flesh. Mjolnir dodged another swipe from the bear's claws and readied his weapon. It hurt a lot to draw his bowstring, but Mjolnir merely grimaced through the pain and let his arrow fly. It punctured the fatty scruff of the bear's neck. The animal, if it could be called that, reared up on its hind legs and let out an almost human bellow of anger. Tamlen and Mjolnir's arrows peppered its chest and stomach, but the creature hardly seemed to notice. It was bleeding though. Mjolnir could see puddles of black fluid spattering the floor.

"Draw its attention!" Mjolnir ordered, slinging his bow across his back and unsheathing his dagger.

Tamlen nodded and shot the bear in the foot with an arrow. The animal charged, swinging its claws out wildly. Tamlen rolled aside and came up onto his feet to fire another arrow into the bear's backside. The creature roared in anger, greyish-black spittle flew from its mouth. All its attention was on Tamlen. It had completely forgotten about Mjolnir until it felt the elf's dagger thrust into the back of its head. It let out a horrible squeal and shook its head frantically from side to side before slumping to the ground. Mjolnir stood over it and shot an arrow into the top of its skull just to be sure.

"What… was that thing? What could do this to an animal?"

Both elves stood over the body, frowning at it. Suddenly Mjolnir heard something, like a muted chorus of many voices, and he turned (automatically it seemed) to look at the mirror. Evidently Tamlen had heard it too as he'd turned at the same time as Mjolnir.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? I wonder what the writing says." Tamlen murmured. He seemed to have completely forgotten about the bear and the fact that Mjolnir was bleeding.

The mirror was on a small dais on a platform in the middle of the room. A set of stone steps actually led up to the mirror. Mjolnir didn't like it. There was something… wrong about it. Something eerie that rose his hackles.

"…Stay back, Tamlen."

"What? Why? There's nothing… hey, did you see that? I think something moved inside the mirror."

Suddenly Mjolnir knew what was wrong about the mirror. It reflected everything in the room… except them. Neither he or Tamlen was reflected in the shiny surface.

"Get away from it, Tamlen!" Mjolnir said sharply.

"Relax, Mjolnir. I just want to know what it is. Don't you see it? There it is again!"

Tamlen climbed up the steps, right up to the mirror. Mjolnir followed, but not voluntarily. His legs moved of their own volition. He tried to speak, but it felt like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He and Tamlen had come across something more dangerous than the bear. Mjolnir tried frantically to think of what to do. It was hard to think though. That muted choir was back in his head again and growing louder.

"Can you feel that? I think it knows we're here. I just need to take a closer look." Tamlen asked. His voice was rapturous. He sounded like a thrall. Fear rose up in Mjolnir like a wave.

Tamlen was still staring at the mirror. "It's… showing me places. I can see… some kind of… city… underground?" The blond reached out and touched the mirror. The surface rippled like water. Mjolnir struggled to move, struggled to speak. His body and tongue felt as if they'd been turned to stone. "And… there's a great blackness."

Suddenly, among the choir, Mjolnir heard a different noise. A deep rumbling growl that almost sounded like a voice. Just hearing it made him want to vomit and instead of stone his body felt like it was made of ice. Tamlen's look of bliss faded and he jerked forward, as if he'd tried to move but found that he couldn't. The surface of the mirror began to bubble like boiling water. Brilliant streaks of light began to emanate from it.

"It saw me! Mjolnir…! Help! I can't move! I can't look away!"

Mjolnir tried to reach out to grab Tamlen, but his arms just wouldn't listen. He struggled, screaming at himself to move, to do something. A horrible feeling of being sucked in toward the mirror overtook him. Suddenly, he broke the hold the mirror had on his voice.

"TAMLEN!"

The mirror seemed to explode, pushing Mjolnir back with a force that stole the air from his lungs and bruised his abdomen. Mjolnir twisted in mid-air and hit the wall, face first, with a sickening crunch. Blackness descended upon him.

* * *

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

Trying to think of a plausible reason as to why Duncan was in the Brecilian Forest was a PAIN IN THE ASS. Weak excuses are given in the Dalish Origin and mine is pretty weak as well, but there really is no strong reason that he should be present in the vast, endless forest :p

I messed with the timeline a little as well as there was no real reason Duncan would conveniently stay around for two days…

Also, if my story layout is wonky blame Microsoft Word 2010. They screwed everything up.

* * *

It was a great shame, what happened to the Cousland family, an entire bloodline wiped out in a single night of death and fire. The youngest daughter would have made a fine recruit as well. He would make sure the King knew of Howe's treachery once he reached Ostagar, but first…

Duncan paused. When he left Highever Howe's soldiers had been hot on his tail. They couldn't let him get away to report to the King. Functioning on little sleep, Duncan traveled toward the Brecilian Forest as swiftly as he could. Many years ago, a young Dalish hunter had shown him a shortcut through the vast woods and he'd used it to his advantage ever since. It had proven to be useful yet again. He'd managed to shake off his pursuers only a day after entering the forest.

However… the woods felt different now. Something was tickling the extra sense that only Grey Wardens possessed. It wasn't darkspawn, but it was something sickened by their taint all the same.

Duncan pulled his longsword from its scabbard and moved quietly through the undergrowth. He noticed that as he moved he did not disturb a single animal or bird. Not even insects flew from the bushes he disturbed. This section of the forest had literally been abandoned. This was never a good sign.

The tickle had now become a light throb, like the beginnings of a headache. He was getting closer to the source. Duncan brushed a few low-hanging branches aside and found himself standing on the lip of a very deep valley.

"There… down there." He murmured to himself.

The man sheathed his weapon and carefully picked his way down the steep, rocky slope into the valley. When he reached the bottom a sudden, sharp pain pricked him between the eyes. Only years of having experienced this stopped him from flinching. It was the Grey Warden sense reacting to something powerful just up ahead.

With his longsword back in hand, Duncan continued forward. He wondered what, all the way out here, could be tainted. Frowning thoughtfully, the Warden emerged in a small clearing. There was a cave carved into the rock face. Another sharp pain stabbed Duncan between the eyes. Whatever this thing was… it was in the cave.

Duncan took a few steps forward then stopped abruptly. There was an elf lying on his back just outside the cave. Blood was running profusely from his nose, a wound on his shoulder, and a deep gash on his forehead. The Warden hurried forward and kneeled beside the elf. He was a Dalish, judging by the intricate tattoos on his bloody face.

"Tamlen… Tamlen is gone." The elf whispered. Tears pooled in his glazed eyes and rolled down the sides of his face. "The song… it took him."

The taint was rolling off him in waves. Duncan shook his head sadly. The poor fellow would be dead by nightfall. Carefully, Duncan gathered the elf in his arms. The Dalish never wandered far from their camp unless they were hunting or journeying to a town to trade. He would follow the elf's trail back to his camp. He deserved to die amongst his own people.

"Tamlen…" The elf murmured as Duncan stood. "Tamlen is gone. The song took him, but not me. It left me… but Tamlen is gone."

"Can you hear me?" Duncan asked as he began to walk, carrying the elf in his arms. "I am… very sorry."

The elf did not respond and his eyes slowly closed. Tears continued to leak from beneath the closed lids.

* * *

Mjolnir's eyes opened and for a few brief moments he had no idea where he was. Then he recognized the wood and canvas ceiling of an aravel. The medical aravel…

"Tamlen!"

He sat up straight and nearly screamed as an immense pain radiated out from his shoulder. Mjolnir's head swam and his stomach cramped. The elf retched and fell back onto the cot he'd been lying on. His stomach settled immediately, but his head kept swimming and swirling.

Mjolnir rubbed his knuckles against his forehead. He couldn't remember exactly what had happened. Just flashes: some shems, the ruins, a corrupted animal, a mirror and…

"Tamlen…" He moaned.

With great difficulty, Mjolnir sat up. Golden light was weakly shining through a hole in the canvas. This was not comforting as all the dim light showed was that he was the only one in the aravel.

Holding his arm against him, Mjolnir slowly got to his feet. He was dressed only in his underthings and he looked around for his belongings. He found his armor piled at the foot of his cot, but his longbow and dagger were nowhere in sight. He must have lost them… when… when… an explosion… a wall coming up on him fast.

Pain shot down his arm and though he didn't want to, Mjolnir looked down at his shoulder. Two furrows, only three inches long, but deep, were visible there. It was if layers of his skin had been neatly scooped away by a knife… or a claw…

The elf rubbed his forehead again. That's right. The bear… that corrupted thing. It had attacked him, but why had the Keeper not healed him?

Mjolnir's shoulder ached and throbbed as he dressed himself in his armor. He felt groggy and tired. His brain wouldn't stop buzzing and his knees felt weak and watery. What had happened to him? More importantly, where was Tamlen?

The elf squinted against the harsh sunlight as he exited the aravel.

"What the! By the Creators! Mjolnir! You're all right!" A voice shouted, making both Mjolnir's head and shoulder throb.

"…Fenarel?"

His eyes were adjusting to the light and he could see the younger hunter approaching him with a smile on his face.

"Yeah, it's me! How do you feel?"

"Worried." Mjolnir replied as Fenarel came to a stop in front of him. "Where is Tamlen?"

The youth's smile faded instantly, "No one knows. The shem who brought you back said that he only found you. Keeper sent a search party out last night, but they returned in the small hours of the morning empty handed. They couldn't even find a trail."

"So they've given up?"

"Of course not!" Fenarel said indignantly, "They went back out again an hour ago! We're not giving up until we find him!"

That strange buzzing was still in Mjolnir's brain. He was finding it very hard to focus.

"You said… a shemlen brought me back?"

"He was a Grey Warden." Fenarel replied. "He walked into camp carrying you. There was quite an uproar. The Keeper had to stop at least three hunters from shooting you both full of arrows. Anyway, he left you here and ran off again. Said he was going to explore the cave you found before he moved on. Keeper Marethari tended to you all night…." The blond chewed on his lower lip. "We thought we were going to lose you. You were delirious with fever and you bled so much…"

Mjolnir touched his fingers lightly to his forehead. He seemed to remember having a large cut there…

"But what am I doing?" Fenarel berated himself. "The Keeper wanted to speak to you if- when you awoke. I'll go get her now!"

The young hunter sprinted off and Mjolnir staggered into the shade cast by a large boulder in the camp. He sat down hard on the grass and closed his eyes, trying to get his thoughts to come together. The elf could not make the buzzing go away, but he found that he could make it diminish. He pushed the feeling to the back of his mind and concentrated on his flashes of memory instead. The shems, the ruins, the bear, the mirror, the voice- Mjolnir's eyes snapped open. The voice. The song that had enthralled both he and Tamlen. The voice… the voice that turned his blood to ice.

"The song took him." Mjolnir muttered without meaning to.

"Mjolnir?"

The dark-haired elf looked up to see the Keeper standing over him. He moved to get up, but she held up one hand in negation. He settled back into the grass and she sat beside him.

"How do you feel?"

"Groggy, weak, worried." Mjolnir replied.

The Keeper nodded, "I sent a search party out to look for Tamlen."

"Yes, Fenarel told me."

"I know not what dark power held you, but there were many times last night where I thought you would pass on."

A mirror. A song. Tamlen touched the mirror and it rippled. It exploded. It… it… sickened them.

"Tamlen is sick."

The Keeper nodded, "I fear that he is."

Mjolnir cradled his head in his hands and the Keeper put one slender hand on the nape of his neck.

"What do you remember, Mjolnir? Duncan says that there may have been darkspawn in that cave. Perhaps you fought them. Darkspawn have been known to sicken those they come into close contact with."

The elf shook his head, "There were… walking corpses."

"Walking corpses?" Keeper Marethari frowned. "Dark magic, but not darkspawn. Was there anything else?"

"A mirror. It was wrong. It did not reflect us."

"A mirror…" The Keeper murmured thoughtfully. "Mjolnir, do you think you can guide Merrill back to the cave? If the mirror can be understood perhaps a cure can be made."

"Yes, Keeper. I am up to it. I feel better now."

This was a blatant lie, he still felt weak and dizzy, but he wouldn't have said anything else. He was going to help find and cure Tamlen even if he had to search the entire forest himself. Mjolnir put his weight on his hand to push himself up and he grunted as his shoulder pained him again.

"That injury," The Keeper said, taking a hold of Mjolnir's good wrist and helping him up. "I am sorry, but I could not fully heal it. It is a cursed wound. I managed to get your skin to knit closed, but I could not get the layers of skin to reform. I am afraid that using a bow will be quite painful now."

"I will manage." Mjolnir grunted.

"I want to go too!"

Both the Keeper and Mjolnir turned in surprise and Fenarel came running out from behind an aravel. Apparently he'd been eavesdropping.

"Fenarel, are you sure? We may have already lost Tamlen. I don't want to lose you too." The Keeper said. Mjolnir felt a pang at her words, but said nothing.

"Tamlen is my friend too! I want to help!"

"Very well then, but be careful."

"I will, Keeper!"

Fenarel trotted up to Mjolnir. He already had his daggers at the ready. Obviously he'd been planning to go whether Keeper Marethari gave permission or not.

"Fenarel, do you have a longbow I could use?" Mjolnir asked.

"Of course. It's in my tent. C'mon."

Fenarel's small tent was by the Halla pen. The smell of grass and dung wafted to them on the wind. When Mjolnir approached the fence one of the snow white creatures nuzzled his wounded shoulder with her nose. The dark-haired elf smiled wryly and gently patted the Halla's neck.

"You sense it, don't you?" He asked, looking into the creature's strange milky eyes. "The wound is not the only thing the Keeper could not cure. The sickness is weakened, but still inside me."

The Halla bleated in a morose sort of way and that was all the answer Mjolnir needed.

"Here it is." Fenarel said, evidently he hadn't heard a word. "No need to give it back. I prefer using my daggers… but…" The blond watched as Mjolnir slung the bow and quiver across his back very stiffly. "Will you… be able to use it?"

"I will be fine." Mjolnir replied.

The Halla bleated again. Mjolnir stared at her while Fenarel watched curiously.

"Mjolnir… what?"

The elf scratched the Halla's nose and walked off.

"W-wait for me!"

Merrill was usually on the outskirts of camp collecting elfroots and mushrooms for the Keepers poultices so they'd headed for the woods. Mjolnir stared up at the canopy of leaves overhead while he walked. Being in the forest used to be a comfort to him. But now… the forest was tainted. The air was still and it smelled as the ruins did, of death and corruption. Something terrible was happening and Mjolnir was willing to bet the use of his good arm that it had something to do with the darkspawn the Keeper was talking about.

"Duncan." Mjolnir said suddenly, making Fenarel jump. "Keeper Marethari said that Duncan thought darkspawn had attacked me. Is that the Grey Warden?"

Fenarel nodded, "He looked like any old shem to me, but the Keeper greeted him like a friend."

Merrill was standing, still and silent, facing the south when Mjolnir and Fenarel walked up. She had indeed been collecting elfroot. Mjolnir could see about twenty of the small leafy plants lying on a square of leather at Merrill's feet.

"We've camped too close to a shemlen area." She said. "Their filth clouded my senses or I would have noticed earlier."

"Noticed what?" Fenarel asked, puzzled. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly." Mjolnir replied quietly. "No birds. No animals. Silence."

The young hunter paused and listened to the stark silence with Merrill and Mjolnir.

"Y-you're right…"

The woman sighed and ran one hand through her short dark hair. "I do not relish the thought of returning to that cave you found." She folded the leather square the elfroot lay on into a bundle and tied it shut before attaching it to a loop on her belt. "I assume the Keeper said Fenarel could come? She did not mention him this morning when she said I was to return to the cave if- when you came to."

"Yes." Mjolnir replied.

"Very well then. Let's set off."

Merrill had plunged her staff into the earth like a branchless tree when she'd stopped to pick the elfroot. Now she gathered it up in one hand and rested it against her shoulder.

It was a moment before Mjolnir realized he was supposed to be leading them. His brain was still a little fuzzy and scattered.

"This way." He said, leading them in the direction that he and Tamlen had gone to find their private little tree.

"How are you feeling?" Merrill asked, falling into step with Mjolnir. "The Keeper said your shoulder…"

"I'm fine." The elf replied shortly.

"It's not your fault, Mjolnir." The brunette said quietly.

Mjolnir snorted, "I am supposed to be a protector, Merrill. I failed Tamlen. I failed the clan."

"I disagree, but I know arguing with you will only give me a headache."

The dark-haired elf grunted in agreement of the mage's words.

Fenarel had watched the two older elves talk with some apprehension on his face. Though Mjolnir was always kind to him, he'd always been a little afraid of the older hunter. Perhaps it was those deep reddish brown eyes Mjolnir possessed. They made him look a little feral… like every shem's worst nightmare of what a Dalish was.

Mjolnir came to a halt at the base of the Creator's Nest he and Tamlen had slept in… seemingly a millennia ago. He stared up at the tangled branches until both Merrill and Fenarel began shifting their weight anxiously.

"That way, down in the valley. Be careful. It's steep." He finally said.

Fenarel, nimble as the rest of the Dalish hunters, ran down the rocky embankment like a sure-footed deer. As the Keeper's first, Merrill was not accustomed to such things and had to be helped down the slope by Mjolnir.

They'd just reached the valley floor when Mjolnir's shoulder suddenly flared white hot with pain. He growled and clutched at it. It felt like his arm was trying to rip itself off his body.

"Mjolnir!" Merrill exclaimed. "What is it?"

The mage reached out to touch Mjolnir's shoulder, to use a healing spell, but he roughly shoved her away. The woman opened her mouth angrily then snapped it shut again as an arrow thunked into a tree, right where she'd been standing not even a few seconds before.

"Behind… you…" Mjolnir ground out, his teeth bared like an angry wolf.

Merrill and Fenarel whirled around to see two green-skinned creatures, grinning and hissing. The wind carried the creatures' scent to them: carrion, rot, death.

"What in the Creators is that!" Fenarel nearly screamed.

The creatures were both carrying odd-looking longbows and they simultaneously shot two more arrows at the group of elves. Fenarel dodged one of them, but Merrill was rooted to the spot with fright. Mjolnir swiftly placed himself in front of her and was knocked back a step as the arrow punctured his armor with the impact of a stone punch.

Fenarel had gotten over the shock of the monsters' appearance and ran at them, dodging arrows and his daggers ready to strike.

Mjolnir ripped the arrow from his armor, it hadn't managed to go all the way through thankfully, and he unslung his bow. He aimed, his shoulder burning madly, and let an arrow fly. It missed the skull of one of the little creatures by inches. Merrill goggled at him. He'd never missed a shot like that in the entire time she knew him… and they'd grown up together.

The dark-haired elf swore and readied another arrow. Fenarel has fighting one of the creatures close range now. The strange green-skinned fiend had produced a dagger from somewhere and was parrying the hunter's blows with eerie ease.

Mjolnir's second arrow caught one of the monsters in the shoulder and it stumbled backward with a squeal of pain.

Merrill finally pulled herself together and strode forward.

"Fenarel, get out of the way!"

The hunter swiped at the creature he was fighting, making it jump back, and then dodged aside as Merrill's stream of fire engulfed both monsters. Mjolnir's shoulder gave a fresh throb of pain as the monstrosities squealed and blundered about as their flesh cooked on their bones.

Mjolnir shot off another arrow and this time he didn't miss. One of the burning creatures fell dead with an arrow sticking through its neck. The other one soon dropped beside its partner with an arrow pierced through its heart.

"What in the… were those darkspawn?" Merrill asked breathlessly as Fenarel joined them.

"That would make sense." Mjolnir said, squeezing his hurt shoulder and grimacing.

"Are you all right?" Fenarel asked. "You look a little… grey around the edges."

"I'll recover." The older elf replied.

He saw Merrill's sharp gaze flick from the lightly smoking creatures to his shoulder, but she said nothing.

"Are you sure?" The blond asked, wringing his fingers nervously.

"I'll keep an eye on him." Merrill replied smartly.

Mjolnir snorted and walked on, draping his bow across his back again.

"What are darkspawn doing here?" The mage wondered as they moved along.

Mjolnir thought of the song. How it had called to him and Tamlen. "Maybe the mirror has something to do with it."

Merrill frowned, looking uncomfortable. "What would an artifact of our people have to do with the darkspawn?"

Mjolnir didn't reply. He didn't think the mirror had anything to do with elves, but he didn't feel like talking. His shoulder was a hot, painful ball of misery. He supposed he could teach himself to draw his bowstring with his good arm, but thought his aim would only suffer more.

"Look!"

Fenarel was pointing at something ahead. Through a break in the trees, the trio could see a small stream of dark grey smoke coiling into the sky. Fenarel scouted ahead while Mjolnir stayed behind with Merrill. The blond returned a few minutes later.

"Just an abandoned camp. A fresh one though… obviously…" He said, blushing slightly.

"Probably the Warden's." Mjolnir said. "You did say he was going to the cave."

"Let's keep moving then. Maybe he's found some sign of Tamlen."

"So we need the help of shems now?" Fenarel muttered.

Merrill shot him a look, "If it means we find our brother I would accept help from even the dirtiest shem. I don't much like the idea, but Tamlen is what's important."

The young hunter looked down at his feet, chastened. Mjolnir did not contribute to Merrill and Fenarel's argument and walked on. The other two fell in step silently behind him.

"How did you find this cave anyway?" Fenarel asked after a while.

"Tamlen and I met some shems in the forest and they told us of it."

"Ha!" The blond exclaimed. "It was some trap the shemlen set up for you then!"

"No." Mjolnir replied. "It was not a simple trap. Something… dark lives in that cave… in the mirror. It enthralled both myself and Tamlen."

Fenarel looked discomfited. "How are we going to get near it then?"

"I do not know."

"I am just to examine it." Merrill told Fenarel. "Being a mage, I may pick up on things that Mjolnir would not and if it's as powerful as Mjolnir says it is we won't have to get too close."

The young hunter sighed in relief. The three of them were coming up on a small rise in the earth when Mjolnir's shoulder blazed with pain again.

"Stop." He grunted.

Merrill and Fenarel stopped dead in their tracks.

"What is it, Mjolnir?" Fenarel asked.

"Be careful. There is something over that rise."

Merrill's intelligent eyes glanced at his shoulder again then up at the small hillock. Fenarel was listening his very hardest for movement.

"How many?" He asked.

"I don't know." Mjolnir replied, readying his bow. "I'll go ahead. You stay here."

Merrill looked like she was ready to argue with him so he walked off quickly, leaving the trail, slipping into the sparse trees that grew on the embankment. Keeping low so the bushes and trees gave him cover, Mjolnir stalked quietly over the rise.

There was a dead Halla on the ground and three more of those short darkspawn were fighting over the strips of meat they pulled from the animal. Blood was smeared on their mouths and hands. They hissed and gibbered at each other as they fought.

Mjolnir readied an unusually heavy arrow and waited. Two of the creatures were side-by-side. One of them straightened up and Mjolnir drew his bowstring. His shoulder screamed with agony and sweat beaded immediately on his skin, but he continued to wait. The second darkspawn stood and Mjolnir released his arrow. The heavier arrow, usually reserved for 'armored' game like bears, punctured easily through the skull of the first darkspawn and went on to pierce the head of the creature standing right beside it. Both monsters fell over dead with Halla meat still crammed in their jaws.

The third creature turned and threw a dagger at Mjolnir with scary speed and almost perfect accuracy. The serrated blade cut the elf's cheek as it flew past. Mjolnir returned fire with another heavy arrow, punching through the creature's pointed teeth and exiting out the base of its skull.

"It's clear!" He called, standing up and wincing as he shouldered his bow.

"Look at that shot!" Fenarel gaped down at the darkspawn that were connected by Mjolnir's arrow.

"You're bleeding." Merrill frowned when Mjolnir emerged from the tree cover.

"That I am." Mjolnir replied plainly.

The mage stared at him and he stared right back. Fenarel was confused. Mjolnir was the one to break the silence,

"It's not far now."

And with that the dark-haired elf turned and continued along the path.

"Merrill… what…?" Fenarel began.

But Merrill only frowned and shook her head before following after Mjolnir.


	6. Chapter 6

Originally this and Ch. 5 were all one chapter, but together it was 26 pages long so I cut it in half. So yeah, that's the reason for the twofer :)

* * *

"Wow… spooky…" Fenarel murmured, peering into the mouth of the cave. "There are ruins in there?"

"Yes." Mjolnir replied.

"And just the mirror?" Merrill asked. She too was peering into the cave with some apprehension.

"I don't remember."

There were a few dead darkspawn lying outside the cave. Obviously the Grey Warden was here or had been here and moved on already.

"Well… come on. I'll examine the mirror first then perhaps we'll look around for some sign of Tamlen. Although… after seeing these creatures… my hopes are not very high." Merrill cast a sympathetic look at Mjolnir, but he didn't look at her.

Fenarel, who noticed nothing, wrinkled his nose a little. "What… is that smell?"

"Death." Mjolnir replied, walking into the cave.

The ruins were nearly the same as they were when he and Tamlen had been there. The only difference was the fresh darkspawn corpses that now lay littered among the ancient piles of bones. Fifteen in all so far.

"For an old shem the Warden certainly is skilled…" Fenarel murmured a little grudgingly.

"The veil is very thin here…" Merrill said, not listening to the young hunter. "I'm not surprised considering how many bones are lying around…"

The mage's words triggered something in Mjolnir's mind. Two skeletons wearing bits of rotting armor slowly walking forward…

"Tamlen and I fought corpses down here." He said.

"Great." Fenarel moaned softly.

Merrill nodded, "That can happen when the veil is thin. Spirits and demons can come through and possess corpses."

When they came to the hall with the statue of Falon'Din Mjolnir's stomach tightened. They were getting closer to the mirror. What happened if they were all enthralled again? What if the mirror killed them all instead of sickening them?

"Kinda… ugly, huh?" Fenarel said, examining the statue's spindly limbs.

"Have you no respect?" Merrill snapped.

A diamond bright glitter made both Fenarel and Merrill turn on the spot. Automatically, Mjolnir reached out and grabbed each by the shoulder. He wondered if Tamlen's touch had unleashed something… or made the mirror stronger.

The door to the mirror room had nearly been blown off its hinges. It hung crooked and looking decidedly dejected. Amid the shine of the polished mirror Mjolnir could see a human shape standing in front of the object.

"The Warden." He said. "You two stay here."

"But-" Merrill and Fenarel protested in unison.

"Stay. Here." Mjolnir repeated firmly.

Making sure that neither of his companions was following him, Mjolnir slipped into the mirror room. With a pang he saw his longbow lying off to one side, what remained of it at least. His weapon had been smashed to pieces.

"Warden?" He asked quietly.

The man standing before the mirror turned to regard him. His eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"You're the elf I found outside the cave."

"Yes."

Mjolnir was puzzled. The Warden looked impressed instead of surprised now.

"The mirror… the song doesn't hold you?" He asked.

The man, Duncan the Keeper had called him, smiled sadly, "Not enough to control me. I assume that is what happened to you?"

"Yes. Both myself and… and Tamlen were entranced by it. Tamlen touched it and…" The elf shook his head. He couldn't finish speaking. His throat seemed to have closed up on him.

Merrill and Fenarel were standing in the doorway looking awed and nervous at the same time.

"The magic I feel in here…" Merrill whispered. "It feels like… it's gone bad. It makes my skin crawl."

The Warden nodded. "This is a Tervinter artifact… once used for communication. Over time it has simply… broken. It has become filled with the same taint as the darkspawn. Tamlen's touch must have released it." He glanced at Mjolnir. "It's what made you sick and Tamlen too, I presume."

In the very back of his mind, Mjolnir could hear the mirror's song. His gaze moved from the Warden's face to the mirror.

"It should be destroyed." He said.

"I agree." The Warden replied. "So long as this mirror exists. It's a threat to anyone nearby."

"I do not fear this sickness." Merrill said, a little more boldly. "The Keeper knows how to cure it."

Duncan glanced at Mjolnir, who looked away.

"Your Keeper may have weakened it, but it cannot be cured. Right now it resides in his veins. I can sense it within him."

Merill looked unbelievingly at Mjolnir. He returned her gaze, but said nothing. His silence was her answer.

"Mjolnir…" Fenarel murmured.

"I don't believe it!" Merrill burst out. Both Mjolnir and Fenarel looked at her in some surprise.

The Warden merely smiled a smile that was both rueful and patient. "Confirm it with your Keeper later if you wish. For now, we must deal with the mirror."

The man unsheathed his longsword and approached the mirror. He swung the weapon in a hard arc, striking the mirror's surface. The voice, louder than ever, seemed to bellow with rage in Mjolnir's mind. There was a flash of light and then nothing but the sound of broken glass hitting the stone dais. The song was gone.

Duncan, who had shielded his eyes against the light, slowly lowered his arm. Fenarel and Merrill had cautiously entered the room and were looking around with frightened interest.

"The magic lingers, but it has weakened." Merrill said.

"In time, this place will heal." The Warden responded. "Now let us leave. I need to speak with your Keeper immediately."

"No." Everyone turned to look at Mjolnir, who was rubbing his shoulder and looking stormy. "I am not leaving until I pick up Tamlen's trail."

"I am afraid there will be no trail to find." Duncan said unhappily.

Anger rose up in Mjolnir's throat like bile. "Tamlen is just as strong as I am. I am still alive. He could be as well."

_But Tamlen didn't have the Keeper poring over him all night_, said the little nasty voice in the back of Mjolnir's mind.

Duncan seemed to be thinking along the same lines, though he was kind about it instead. "Your strength certainly helped, but without your Keeper's intervention you would have died."

"But… won't there even be a body to find?" Fenarel asked, speaking directly to the Warden for the first time.

Duncan looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid the darkspawn would have taken his body."

Mjolnir could almost see the dead Halla pop into Fenarel's mind.

"Not to feed!" The blond asked, sounding both horrified and disgusted.

The man's sympathetic grimace was all the answer Fenarel needed. Even Merrill had gone pale, her arms firmly crossed over her breasts as if she could physically close out thoughts of Tamlen's fate.

Mjolnir didn't believe it. There was something wavering in the Warden's gaze. He was lying… whether about Tamlen being alive or his fate he didn't know but… Duncan was lying. However, now was not the time to argue. They'd take the Warden back to their camp and then he'd look for Tamlen himself. Stalemate solved.

"Very well. Let's go back to camp."

They left the ruins with the Warden in the lead. Mjolnir barely heard Merrill introducing herself (and Mjolnir since he ignored her prompts to say his name) and Fenarel reluctantly stating his own name and complimenting the Warden on slaying so many darkspawn by himself.

There were many murmurs when they entered the camp. Some were about the reappearance of the Grey Warden, but most were about the absence of Tamlen. The Keeper was sitting by her aravel reading a scroll. As they approached she set it aside and stood.

"I am relieved to see you all back." She said. "However, I did not expect to see you back so soon, Duncan."

"I did not expect to be back so soon, Keeper Marethari." The Warden replied.

"Dare I ask of Tamlen? What did you find of him?"

No one spoke right away. Mjolnir felt a pang in his chest that had nothing to do with his injured shoulder.

"Nothing." Merrill finally replied. "The Grey Warden says he is gone."

"I see." The Keeper sighed. "And… what about the mirror?"

"I can answer that, Keeper." Duncan said. "I destroyed it."

"I intended to use it to find a cure for this mysterious illness. I trust you had good reasons for your actions."

Out the corner of his eye Mjolnir saw Merrill's jaw drop a bit. The Keeper had confirmed what she didn't believe or maybe hadn't wanted to believe. Mjolnir was still sick.

"There is much to discuss, Keeper Marethari." The Warden replied. "I have discovered much since I was last here."

"Let us speak privately within my aravel then, Duncan." The Keeper turned to her apprentice. "Merrill, warn the hunters. If there are more darkspawn about I want the clan prepared."

"Ma nuvenin, Keeper." Merrill nodded. "Right away."

The mage gently brushed her hand against Mjolnir's arm as she turned and left.

"Fenarel, please tell Hahren Paivel that he now has the sad task of preparing a service for the dead."

"Yes, Keeper."

The blond shot a worried glance and Mjolnir's blank face before trotting off.

The Keeper turned to Mjolnir. She hadn't seen anyone look so empty in a very long time.

"Da'len."

Mjolnir hadn't been called that in such a long time that it brought him out of his reverie. His gaze met hers.

"Please allow me some time to speak with Duncan. Stay within the camp. I will seek you out afterward."

"Yes, Keeper." Mjolnir replied dully.

The Keeper and Duncan turned and walked off. Mjolnir made his way back to the Halla pen and sat down with his back resting against the fence. The buzzing in his brain was still there, but it had diminished significantly since he'd awakened that morning. He was running a fever now though. His brow was hot to the touch and sweat formed a thin sheen on his skin.

"Mjolnir?" Blearily, he looked up. Ashalle was standing over him holding a water skin. "May I sit with you?"

He nodded and Ashalle sat herself down beside him. She passed him the water skin and he drank the cool water gratefully.

"Ma serannas, Ashalle."

"Is it true?" The woman whispered. "Is Tamlen gone?"

"I… I don't know."

Ashalle clasped one of his hands between hers and squeezed it tight.

"I am so sorry, Mjolnir."

Mjolnir just nodded. His eyes burned with unfallen tears. Everything ached. He just wanted Tamlen back. To see his grin again and to look into his bright blue eyes. To touch his skin and kiss his lips again. He wanted all these things. But… he knew. Deep down he knew he would never have them again. Tamlen was gone. The Warden was most likely lying about Tamlen's fate, sugar-coating it. Mjolnir immediately closed down that branch of thought. He didn't want to even think of what was worse than being eaten by darkspawn.

_Maybe he was still alive when they started feeding_, the nasty voice said.

"Shut up." Mjolnir growled.

"Mjolnir?"

The dark-haired elf started a bit. He'd completely forgotten that Ashalle was sitting with him.

"I did not mean you, Ashalle…"

"You're too hard on yourself, Mjolnir. You always have been." Ashalle replied. "What happened was not your fault."

"So everyone tells me." The elf muttered, knowing that he sounded like a child.

"Mjolnir."

Both Ashalle and Mjolnir looked up to see the Keeper approaching them. The Warden was waiting by a distant tree behind her.

"Come with me please."

Mjolnir and Ashalle stood. The older elf quickly grabbed her adoptive son and hugged him tightly.

"I will be waiting by the cooking pit for you." She said.

Mjolnir smiled weakly and gently stroked the nape of Ashalle's neck. "All right."

Ashalle bowed her head respectfully at the Keeper then hurried off. Mjolnir followed the Keeper to where the Warden was waiting.

"Your Keeper and I have spoken about many things." Duncan said. "And I would like to offer you a place within the Grey Wardens."

Mjolnir frowned. "The what?"

"The Grey Wardens are an order dedicated to fighting darkspawn." The Keeper said.

"I… don't understand."

"The sickness within you will kill you within a few months." Duncan said. "I offer you a way out."

"You said there was no cure." Mjolnir replied, his tone slightly accusatory.

"Every Grey Warden goes through a ritual." Duncan responded. "This ritual is the key to extending your life. Join the Grey Wardens."

"No. I'd rather die here amongst my people."

The Keeper closed her eyes and sighed. She'd been expecting his answer.

"I must insist." The Warden said. "There are too few Wardens in Ferelden. We need all the recruits we can get. Your strength is remarkable. You survived what others usually would not."

"With the Keeper's help." Mjolnir replied stubbornly.

"You still need an incredible strength of will to survive what you did. Join us."

"No."

"Then I'm afraid I have to invoke the right of conscription."

"That means nothing to me."

"But it does to me." The Keeper broke in. "You will join the Wardens, Mjolnir."

The elf stared disbelievingly at the Keeper. She stared right back. Her gaze did not waver.

"An army of darkspawn is gathering in the south. If something is not done the Blight will consume us all. This is your duty to the clan, Mjolnir."

The elf turned angrily away from her. Sweat rolled down into his eye and he rubbed at it viciously. The Keeper and Duncan waited silently, patiently.

_What about Tamlen?_ He asked himself.

_What about him?_ The little voice replied. _You failed to protect him and he is dead. Now death is threatened upon thousands of people. Will you let them die because of your selfish desire for your own death? Will you let your clan die? Ashalle? Faelwen? Merill? Fenarel?_

Feeling weak and shaky again, Mjolnir turned back toward Keeper Marethari and the Warden.

"Very well. If it is my duty to the clan then I will join you."

"Ma serannas, Mjolnir." The Keeper said.

"Yes, thank-you." Duncan added, crossing his arms over his chest and bowing. A human sign of respect. "We must leave as soon as you're ready."

"…I cannot stay for… Tamlen's funeral?"

The man shook his head, "We have much ground to cover, but I cannot deny you that. We will leave after your friend's service."

As there was no body they buried Tamlen's favorite tunic. It was dark indigo and had been his father's once. Faelwen had been chosen to sing the song for the dead. She had a beautiful and clear voice, but Mjolnir barely heard it. Too many thoughts were swirling around in his head. He was leaving the only home he ever knew. Most likely he would never see it or his family again. He was walking straight into the belly of the beast. The elf stared at the soft mound of freshly dug earth. Tamlen was dead and it was his fault.

Faelwen finished singing and Mjolnir, his hands shaking, planted a sapling over Tamlen's buried tunic. It was a Creator's Nest. He'd spent the remainder of the morning carefully digging it up. He hadn't let anyone help him.

"Goodbye my love…" He whispered, touching his forehead with his hand then touching one of the tender branches on the sapling.

He straightened and the clan instantly gathered around him, offering both sympathies and farewells. Fenarel actually burst into tears as he hugged Mjolnir tightly around the neck.

"I will return one day, Fenarel." He lied reassuringly, patting the young hunter on the head.

"Mjolnir."

Fenarel released him and the elf turned to see Ashalle holding something out to him. It looked like a bunch of rice paper bound together with twine.

"Your mother… gave me this before she walked into the forest. It's her journal. She told me that… one day… I would know when to give it to you."

Mjolnir accepted the gift mutely, but his expression was grateful. Ashalle understood.

"Be safe, da'len." She said.

Mjolnir swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and he bent down, scooping Ashalle up into a bear hug. She laughed softly and put her arms around his neck.

"Farewell, Mjolnir…" Faelwen murmured when he'd placed his mother back on her feet.

"Goodbye Faelwen."

The smaller elf stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. He brushed her cheek with his thumb and tried to smile as cheerfully as he could.

"Show those shems what we elves can do." She said without any real heart.

"I will."

Merrill didn't hug Mjolnir, but her eyes were over-bright. He smiled and squeezed her upper arm gently.

"Goodbye Merrill."

"…I…farewell, Mjolnir. Be careful and try not to smell the shems too much. They'll ruin your sense of smell."

The elf laughed softly and a reluctant smile curled Merrill's lips.

Mjolnir turned and waved once to his clan. They waved back, many of them crying. It was always a big deal when they lost one of their own, no matter how they were lost. The elf picked up his pack of meager belongings and nodded to Duncan, who'd been waiting for him a respectful distance away. The Warden nodded back as the Keeper stepped between them.

"Here." She placed a dagger in an ornate sheath in Mjolnir's hands. "A gift from the clan to replace the one you lost."

"Ma serannas."

Mjolnir carefully tucked the dagger and its sheath into his bedroll. He and the Keeper stared silently at each other for a few moments then he bowed his head respectfully and moved passed her, following Duncan into the woods.

* * *

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

Got some time off work so I'm using some of it to write like a mad woman. I swear words get built up inside my brain and threaten to explode it if I don't write... lol

Nargh! This site always messes with my story layout. It drives me crazy D:

* * *

The elf hadn't spoken a word since they left the Dalish camp six days ago. There was no hostility in this quiet however. Mostly it was a sorrowful silence and sometimes contemplative. Duncan did not prod the recruit to speak. He would talk when he was ready.

They were stopped for the night, camped in a small sheltered clearing. The woods around them were unnaturally silent; the only noise was the crackle of the fire Duncan had built. Currently the Warden Commander was stewing some mushrooms and roots in a small cauldron over the fire. A great warrior he was, but a hunter he was not. He knew which mushrooms and roots were edible and that was the extent of his survival skills when it came to food. Mjolnir had gone off into the woods alone and Duncan had let him. It wouldn't do any good to antagonize the elf.

Mjolnir returned a quarter of an hour later carrying a dead rabbit by the ears. He sat opposite Duncan and began to gut and skin his kill. Duncan watched, his stomach rumbling hungrily, as the elf spitted the cleaned rabbit and held it over the fire. The smell of roasting meat teased Duncan's senses and he peered into his pot with some aversion. The stew bubbled merrily, indifferent to Duncan's disgust.

The elf raised his eyes to Duncan, watching as the Warden poured some of the stew into his bowl. The mushrooms were still rubbery and the broth was bland, but Duncan ate it anyway. The corner of Mjolnir's mouth twitched when Duncan grimaced reflexively. The outside of the rabbit was nicely roasted to a deep brown color. Mjolnir grabbed his new dagger, the sheath the Keeper had given him was different, it rested horizontally in the small of his back instead of vertically at his hip, and he cut a strip of meat off the rabbit.

Duncan looked up to see the elf regarding him with those dark feral eyes of his and holding something out to him. A piece of meat, he realized. The elf still did not speak. He merely held the food out to Duncan.

"Thank-you." Duncan said, taking the meat.

The elf's head bobbed very slightly in what could have been a nod before he cut a strip of meat off for himself then held the remaining rabbit over the fire again. Duncan finished off his stew out of pure stubbornness then tore into the meat Mjolnir had given him. It was delicious, tender and smoky, with very little fat. Duncan looked up again. Mjolnir appeared to be smiling at him, but he quickly looked back at his rabbit and later Duncan wouldn't be sure if it had been a smile at all.

Mjolnir was on guard when Duncan awoke with a start. Their fire had burned down to a few glowing embers, but he could just see the elf's outline in the dim moonlight. He was staring into the woods, his bowstring drawn. Duncan grunted softly as his extra sense prickled unpleasantly. Darkspawn. A single one. Now that was odd…

The man unsheathed his longsword and moved silently to stand beside Mjolnir. Close to, he realized that the elf's drawn arm was shaking just the slightest bit.

The lone darkspawn moved on without incident. It might have been better to kill it, but that may have drawn the attention of others. They had to be careful the further south they went. The darkspawn would be within 'hearing' range any day now. They couldn't risk catching the horde's attention.

Mjolnir lowered his bow, but his eyes never left the spot where the darkspawn had walked passed.

"Have you been hurt?" Duncan asked.

The elf turned toward him, his eyes shining a faint green like a cat's. Duncan had seen this before, Dalish elves couldn't see in the dark quite as well as a cat, but a right-sight better than humans. It was still slightly unnerving though, those faint pinpricks of light in the darkness.

"No."

It was the first and only word Mjolnir spoke until they reached Ostagar.

* * *

Mjolnir stared up at the ruins of Ostagar, completely fascinated. Towers and columns of brilliant white stone seemed to sprout up from the very ground. What was most impressive was the trees. The pines here had room to grow and were at least twice as big as the pines in the Brecilian forest. Mjolnir breathed in deep. He could smell humans (though their scent was stronger than an elf's, they didn't smell as bad as Merrill thought), greens, earth, metal, and dogs. There was a faint underlying of blood on the wind as well. There had been recent battles here.

"Ho there, Duncan!" A voice called, bringing Mjolnir out of his thoughts.

A human in incredibly shiny gold armor was walking up to them. Two guards walked a respectful distance behind this approaching man. He was someone of importance clearly. Mjolnir squinted when the sun reflected off the man's armor and nearly blinded him.

"King Cailan!" Duncan replied, "I didn't expect-"

"A royal welcome?" The King grinned.

Duncan and the King clasped each other's wrists briefly. Mjolnir tilted his head slightly, puzzled by this. Handshakes he knew from his few travels to human towns, but he never saw a gesture such as that.

"I was beginning to think you'd miss all the fun."

"Not if I could help it, your Majesty." Duncan replied, smiling a little weakly.

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious!"

Mjolnir felt a bit of unease. This cub was leading them into battle? He was older than Mjolnir, but he didn't hold himself like a warrior. He held himself like a man who fought once in a blue moon. The plate armor seemed to be weighing him down instead of him carrying its weight comfortably.

"And who is this?" The King asked, smiling at Mjolnir.

"A promising recruit that I met while in the Brecilian forest."

"The Brecilian forest! What were you doing there, Duncan? I'm surprised you made it out so quickly!"

"I'm afraid the reason I was in the Brecilian forest isn't pleasant. We should speak privately when it is convenient for you."

"Very well, Duncan." The man turned to Mjolnir. "Tell me, friend. What is your name?"

"Mjolnir." The elf replied simply.

The reaction was immediate and violent. The guard on Cailan's right stepped forward, raised his fist threateningly, and shouted, "You will address the King properly, elf!"

The guard spat that last word at Mjolnir as if it were a horrendous insult. Mjolnir glanced at Duncan, bemused by this easily angered human. Cailan looked greatly embarrassed by his guard's actions.

"When you speak to the King you must address him as 'your Highness' or 'your Majesty'." Duncan explained.

"He is Dalish, man." The King muttered to his guard, his cheeks slightly red. "He doesn't know our customs."

The guard stepped back, "Forgive me, your Highness."

"Offer your apologies to Duncan's recruit." Cailan said.

There was a moment of great, awkward silence before the guard spoke.

"…My apologies, _ser_."

"You are forgiven, human."

The guard bristled, but said nothing more. The King was still blushing when he turned to face Duncan.

"I'd better get back to camp before Loghain sends out a search party. Come, Duncan, we shall speak in my tent before you prepare your new recruits."

"I have to brief Mjolnir on a few things, but I will be along swiftly."

The King nodded and Duncan crossed his arms over his chest, bowing as Cailan turned and walked away. Mjolnir copied the Warden Commander, figuring it was safe to do so.

"I am… sorry about that."

Mjolnir shrugged in a way that said it didn't bother him in the slightest and a small smile curved Duncan's lips.

"After I speak to the King it will be time to start preparations for the ritual. In the camp across the bridge there is a Grey Warden named Alistair. Will you please find him for me and tell him it is time to gather the other recruits?"

Mjolnir nodded.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Do these trees belong to your King?"

Duncan blinked. Of all the questions the elf could have asked, he certainly hadn't been expecting that one. "I… beg your pardon?"

"These trees, are they your King's property or can I take a swatch without being yelled at?"

"No, you may take whatever you need from the trees…"

Duncan was perplexed, but Mjolnir did not enlighten him.

"You have no other questions?"

"No."

"Very well. I will see you later on."

The Dalish nodded and Duncan turned, heading off across the bridge that spanned a dizzyingly deep gorge. Satisfied that no one would rebuke him, Mjolnir walked over to the nearest yew tree and cut off one of the larger branches. He intended to carve his own longbow when he had the chance. Fenarel's bow was good for now, but he wanted his own.

Mjolnir stuffed the branch into the quiver slung across his back. With some amusement, he thought some of the greener soldiers just might wet themselves when a Dalish with a big stick walked into camp.

The bridge to the camp was white, like the rest of the stone ruins, and very very long. He could just make out Duncan on the other side. Soldiers moved passed him as he walked, most of them gawking openly. At least no one had again called him 'elf' as if it were a nasty curse word. He stopped halfway across the bridge and looked out over the land. Unsurprisingly, the sky to the south was the color of a bruise and the smells carried to him on the breeze were not pleasant. Huge rolling clouds were gathering on the horizon. There was going to be a storm tonight. It was going to be a difficult battle. He hoped the human King had a good General and strong troops.

When he emerged on the other side of the bridge Duncan was nowhere in sight. Presumably he was speaking with the King by now. Well, now he had to find this Alistair and that would be no small feat. All the humans looked the same to him.

Scents were stronger in the camp, especially the smell of dog. There seemed to be a great many of them on the other side of camp. He'd heard about these animals, Nabari he thought they were called. The humans bred them especially for battle. Curious, Mjolnir wandered over to the kennels. The dogs were making a great deal of noise. They didn't even stop barking when they peered curiously up at Mjolnir.

The elf stopped in front of a pen with only one animal in it. It lay on its side on a small bed of hay. Its sides were heaving and a ring of foam encircled its lips. This dog was sick. Very sick.

"Like the Mabari, do you?" A voice asked.

So not 'Nabari' after all. Mjolnir glanced over his shoulder to see a man with tanned skin standing behind him. This man smelled strongly of dog. The Kennel Master obviously.

"This one is sick." Mjolnir said, looking back at the animal.

The Kennel Master came up beside Mjolnir, nodding miserably. "I have some medicine that might help, but Mabari get mean when they're hurt or sick. Won't let me near 'im."

Mjolnir's shoulder gave a faint twinge and he understood. "Perhaps I can try. What do you need?"

The man raised his eyebrows. "He needs to be muzzled, but I doubt he'll let you."

"Let me try."

"I don't know… I'll be in a right bit of trouble if one of the Grey Wardens gets mauled."

News traveled fast in the camp apparently. "I am not a Grey Warden yet. Let me try."

"Well…" The Kennel Master seemed to be having a painful internal struggle. "All right."

The man dug a muzzle out of a nearby crate and handed it to Mjolnir. The elf braced his good hand on the picketed fence and swung himself over easily. The Mabari got drunkenly to its feet and backed into the corner of its pen, growling deep in its chest.

"You are sick." Mjolnir murmured.

The dog lunged weakly and snapped as the elf drew closer. He heard the Kennel Master draw in a breath behind him.

"It is all right." The Dalish continued speaking in a low, soothing voice.

The animal's growls were weakening and its second snap was only half-hearted.

"That's it…"

Mjolnir knelt beside the large dog and slipped the muzzle on. The dog growled faintly then whined and butted its head against Mjolnir's chest.

"Rest now." The elf said.

The dog all but fell over, its sides billowing again. Mjolnir stroked the animal's muscular neck sadly. He figured it would be dead by tomorrow morning.

"I know it's not my place, but can I ask you another favor?" The man asked as Mjolnir exited the pen.

"Go ahead."

"You'll probably get closer to the Korcari Wilds than me. If you get the chance, could you bring back an Andraste's Grace?"

"I do not know what that is."

"It's a flower. If I had one I could make a stronger medicine that will improve the hound's chances for survival. It's very distinctive. It's white with a blood red center. It grows all by itself, usually in very wet marshy ground."

Mjolnir nodded, understanding now. He'd seen these flowers before, the Keeper used them in her poultices. The Dalish called them by a different name, Mouse's Ear.

"I will look for this flower."

The Kennel Master beamed, "Great! Now, I have to get the other dogs ready for battle. If you will excuse me."

The dark-haired elf nodded and walked off. He passed a raised stage where a human priestess was giving a sermon. He asked a few of the soldiers beneath the stage if they'd seen Alistair and every one of them had responded with "I am trying to pray!"

Mjolnir was thinking of approaching a grey-haired mage he saw some distance away and asking _her_ if she knew this Alistair when a small wavering voice squeaked behind him.

"E-excuse me, ser?"

The Dalish turned to see a short red-haired elf staring up at him in awe.

"Oh my…" The elf murmured.

Mjolnir blinked, confused. "Is… something wrong?"

"N-no! I've just… I've never seen a Dalish before! You're… tall."

"And you are short." Mjolnir replied.

The red-haired elf blushed, but he understood that Mjolnir's words weren't meant to be unkind.

"What is your name?" The Dalish asked.

The shorter elf's cheeks flared an even more brilliant red. "P-pik, ser."

Mjolnir grimaced. "Do not call me that. We are brothers, equals. I am Mjolnir. Call me that."

"What an odd name…" Pik's eyes suddenly bulged and he clapped his hands over his mouth. "I'm sorry!"

The dark-haired elf surveyed Pik with sympathy. The way he cringed away from Mjolnir, he expected to be struck. He had been taught with pain instead of patience.

"It is a strange name." Mjolnir replied finally. "My father was from a foreign land and I was named for him."

"I was named for my father too." Pik said quietly, as though Mjolnir might shout at him for replying.

Mjolnir, remembering the guard, thought perhaps he did get shouted at for replying.

"Can you help me? I am looking for the Grey Warden, Alistair."

Pik brightened visibly. "Yes, ser! He's up in the ruins of the temple!" The elf turned and pointed to a crumbling structure in the far corner of the camp.

"Thank-you, Pik."

"I thank you, ser. I've never met a Dalish before. I wish I could be free like you…" Pik suddenly looked terrified, he'd said too much. "I shouldn't have… I have to go now!"

Mjolnir watched the other elf run off as if death itself was at his heels. He felt another swell of pity for Pik. If he thought his clan hadn't moved on already he would have told the redhead how to find them. However, he did not kid himself. The darkspawn were coming up from the south. The clan stopped looking for Tamlen the moment Mjolnir was gone and then they'd packed up and moved on.

The Dalish turned to regard the 'temple' Pik had pointed out to him. It seemed whoever built these towering structures had been rather fond of ramps. He hadn't encountered a single stair so far.

Mjolnir was nearing the top of yet another ramp when he heard raised voices. He reached the top of the incline just in time to see a grumpy-looking mage push passed a tall man with dirty blond hair.

"Get out of my way, fool." The mage snarled at the armored human.

The mage stormed his way and Mjolnir stepped sideways to allow him room to pass. The man did not look at Mjolnir as he went by.

"You know… one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

Mjolnir looked over to see the blond man grinning at him. He felt a touch of deja vu. This man resembled the human King, though this one was few years younger and carried himself better as a warrior.

"You are a very strange human."

The man laughed, "You're not the first to tell me that."

"You are Alistair? Duncan sent me to fetch you."

"I am Alistair… and you must be his newest recruit?"

"Yes."

Silence. Alistair stared avidly at him. Mjolnir was beginning to wonder if he had something on his face when the man spoke again.

"Do you… have a name?"

"Mjolnir."

"You're tall for an elf."

"So I am told."

Alistair's cheeks colored a bit, aware that he'd just essentially insulted Duncan's latest recruit. But… he _was_ tall for an elf, small compared to Alistair's 6'2" frame, but still tall for an elf. And with skin just a shade darker than Duncan's own. That was a rarity in elves as well. Alistair wondered where Duncan had found him.

"Duncan wants you to gather the rest of the recruits."

"Right. We should get underway then."

Feeling he should make up for his earlier fumble, Alistair approached Mjolnir and held out his hand. Up close, he saw that the elf's dark brown eyes had a slightly reddish tinge to them. It was an effect that was both discomforting and intriguing at the same time.

"Duncan did not shake your King's hand." Mjolnir said, clasping Alistair's hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. "He only clasped his wrist briefly."

"Yeah, old tradition. Let's the King know you're not hiding any daggers up your sleeve. Though I guess a good assassin would hide a dagger somewhere more creative."

"I see."

"Well, come on. We'll find Daveth and Ser Jory and be on our way.

* * *

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

The sickness within Mjolnir ebbed and flowed like water at the shore line. When it receded he felt mostly all right, if not a little run down, but when it returned he felt worse each time. His seemingly infinite well of patience had become a shallow puddle. His temper, normally very slow to rouse, simmered just beneath his skin. Feeling ill he could handle. What he did not like was how unlike himself he was within the illness' grip; how impatient and angry he became over the smallest things.

Duncan had sent himself, Alistair, and two other recruits out into the Korcari Wilds to fetch three vials of darkspawn blood and some long abandoned treaties. The swamp was bitterly cold and Mjolnir had the chills thanks to a high fever that had hit him like a rock a few hours after they entered the Wilds. His limbs shook and sweat rolled down his face in large droplets. Alistair heard some of his story from Duncan, but could only regard the recruit with sympathy as there was nothing else that could be done. The other two had no idea what was going on. Jory kept looking askance at him, as if he expected the elf to slaughter them at any given moment.

Mjolnir's patience, paper thin already, was on the verge of breaking. Daveth, the cutpurse, he liked. Daveth had nerve and was almost as good with a bow as Mjolnir was. Jory, the other one, he did not like even when he was feeling well. The man had a weak spirit and it showed. He moaned constantly about the danger of the Korcari Wilds, the danger of the darkspawn, the danger of this, the danger of that. He wasn't fit to be here.

The group was gathered around a freshly killed darkspawn, a tall creature that Alistair had called a 'Hurlock', and the Warden gave them each their vial they had to fill. Daveth pondered aloud about scooping the vial through the blood soaking into the dirt, but Alistair said the blood had to be "pure"… as pure as the vile creature's blood could be anyway.

With his brain buzzing and his temples throbbing painfully Mjolnir leaned down and cut off one of the Hurlock's fingers with his dagger. He held it over his vial, the monster's skin was spongy and unpleasant, and began to squeeze the blood out. It was not bright red and liquid as it should have been. The Hurlock's blood was a dark blackish red and almost goopy as if it had died days ago instead of minutes. A vaguely sulfurous odor arose from the blood as well. Grimacing, Mjolnir squeezed the severed finger until his vial was completely filled. With that done the Dalish dropped the finger beside the dead monster, stoppered his vial, and then wiped his hand absently on his armored side.

"Can I borrow that?" Daveth asked, nodding at Mjolnir's dagger.

The elf flipped the knife so the pommel pointed toward Daveth and the man took it with a word of thanks. Following Mjolnir's example, the former thief bent down and cut another of the darkspawn's fingers off.

"What is the point of this?" Jory asked, the fear in his voice was unmistakable. It wasn't the smart kind of fear either, the kind that helped you survive. This was the stupid kind of fear, the kind that made an animal stop dead in front of a hunter's arrow.

"As Duncan explained, this is part of the Grey Warden ritual. One vial for each recruit." Alistair replied patiently.

The buzzing in Mjolnir's head reminded him of angry bees. He took his dagger back with a curt little nod when Daveth offered it.

"You can't really expect me to… to touch that thing." Jory said. "I heard you can get sick from doing that."

Mjolnir's temper, so close to the surface when the illness took hold, flared up. He bent and dragged his hand through a gaping wound on the Hurlock's chest before he straightened up and smacked Jory across the face with his bloody hand.

"This is the blood of your enemy!" He shouted. "How can you fight your enemy when you cannot stand to have his blood on you!"

Jory gaped at him, a perfect handprint of blood stood out on his right cheek. Alistair and Daveth looked equally shocked, the former with his mouth hanging open. Mjolnir picked up one of the Hurlock's discarded fingers and brandished it in Jory's face.

"You are no warrior! Strengthen your spirit or you will not survive!"

The elf threw the finger at Jory and it bounced off his armored chest. Feeling like his skull was going to break apart, Mjolnir staggered away through the bushes and out of sight.

"Well…" Daveth said, his shock melting into a grin. "He sure told you, Ser Knight."

"Oh, shut your mouth." Jory muttered, blushing a dark scarlet.

"You two stay here." Alistair said. "I'll be back. Jory, fill that vial."

Thoroughly chastened, Jory hunkered down to chop off one of the darkspawn's remaining fingers.

Alistair moved quickly through the brambles and straggly trees, hoping Mjolnir hadn't gone far. He hadn't. The elf was sitting on a fallen log at the edge of a small pond. Blood was running freely from the Dalish's nose and Alistair wasn't surprised to see black flakes in the elf's blood. The taint ran deep within him. The Warden could hardly believe that Mjolnir was still mobile.

"Abelas. I mean… my apologies." Mjolnir said when he spotted Alistair. "I am… usually not so easy to anger…"

Alistair nodded, "It's the taint. It brings out the worst in people."

"Yes." The elf agreed. He didn't seem to notice that he was bleeding.

"Here." Alistair held out his somewhat dirty handkerchief. "Your nose is bleeding."

"Is it?" Mjolnir touched the skin under his nose then stared at his bloody fingertips. He didn't seem disturbed by the flecks of black in his blood. Perhaps Duncan had told him to expect it. "I thought it was sweat."

"Yeah, that's running off of you in rivers too." The blond teased in the cautious way he teased those he didn't know well.

"Funny." Mjolnir said, taking Alistair's offered hanky and pressing it to his nose.

Alistair waited as Mjolnir finally got his nosebleed to stop and then as he splashed some of the slightly smelly pond water on his face. He rinsed out Alistair's handkerchief as well then wrung it out.

"Feeling any better?" Alistair asked.

"No." The elf replied. "But I will continue on." He stood and handed the cloth back to Alistair. "Let's go."

"You're sure?" Alistair asked. "We can take a rest. It's no problem."

"No. We are losing the light. There is no time to rest." Mjolnir replied.

This was true enough. The sun was getting low in the sky and they hadn't yet found the archive or the treaties. They had to move quickly if they were going to finish their task before the battle began. Yet Alistair was reluctant to push Mjolnir. The elf's skin had an unhealthy grey tinge and his eyes were almost glassy. Again, he was amazed that the Dalish was still standing.

"Let's go." Mjolnir repeated, heading back toward Jory and Daveth.

Daveth grinned at Mjolnir when he and Alistair returned. The elf returned the smile weakly then look at Jory. The man hadn't yet wiped the handprint off his face.

"I apologize." Mjolnir said.

Jory grunted in a sulky childish way and another spike of fury stabbed Mjolnir in the temple. The elf bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. The buzzing in his head seemed to get louder when the anger surged up.

Feeling the impending flare-up, Alistair told Daveth to take point and instructed Jory to follow. He and Mjolnir would bring up the rear. Daveth moved away swiftly and silently and Jory clumped after him. Twin rivulets of blood seeped from the corners of Mjolnir's mouth. This blood too was infested with those alien black flakes. Without a word the elf followed after Jory and Alistair followed him, lamenting the fact that Duncan had put him in charge. He was rubbish at such things. The man was amazed that he managed to keep the peace this long and hoped that the taint would recede soon and stop messing with Mjolnir's emotions.

The Dalish rather felt like he was going crazy. Memories began flashing through his mind of their own volition, the buzzing grew louder, and the pressure on his temples was nothing short of torture. The chills had subsided and instead it felt like every single cell in his body was on fire. He wondered if Tamlen was going through this right now. He wondered if Tamlen was dead. He wondered if Tamlen was a pile of steaming chunks being digested in a darkspawn's stomach… or several darkspawn stomachs.

"Stop it." He growled softly. "Stop."

"Mjolnir?" Alistair came up beside him.

"No." Mjolnir shook his head sharply and Alistair fell back again, but remained watchful.

"You can smell the bastards from here!" Daveth called.

The former Templar looked up to see a couple of Genlocks on the next hilltop. You could indeed smell them on the wind. It was a greasy scent; blood and rotting flesh. He was about to unsheathe his sword when the two darkspawn fell dead, one after the other. Daveth, Jory, and Alistair all looked around in confusion then Alistair spotted Mjolnir standing with his bow drawn and realized what had happened. The Dalish had drawn and shot off two arrows before they'd even begun to think of readying their weapons. Maker, he was fast. Alistair wondered how much faster Mjolnir was when he was feeling well. Duncan had made a lucky find with this one even if he wasn't overly sociable.

"Did you see that!" Daveth laughed. "That was incredible!"

Mjolnir heard nothing but the irregular pounding of his heart and he slung his bow across his back. One bright spot in this weary afternoon, his shoulder wasn't paining him. It burned, but it was tolerable for once.

"I've heard that the Dalish are good with a bow, but man… that was amazing!" Daveth said, clapping Mjolnir on the back as he passed.

Mjolnir didn't reply and kept walking.

"Can… that elf be trusted?" Jory asked, watching as Daveth trailed after Mjolnir like an obedient pickpocketing puppy.

"Of course." Alistair replied a little sharply. "He's the best recruit Duncan has found so far."

Jory flushed and followed after the Warden.

* * *

"That looks like a bunch of old ruins to me." Daveth said, pointing to a mass of stone pillars silhouetted by the setting sun.

"Yes." The Dalish nodded.

The sun was swollen and orange and very low in the sky, almost touching the horizon. Even if they hurried they wouldn't make it back to Ostagar before nightfall, but Alistair thought they'd at least make it before the battle started. Frost crunched beneath their feet as they moved over the grass. The snow would come soon although autumn had not even officially started yet. Mjolnir wondered if his mother had written in her journal about her clan. He was curious to know how they weathered the early and brutal snows in the Wilds.

"Feeling better?" A quiet voiced asked.

Mjolnir turned his head to see Alistair walking beside him.

"Very much so."

And this was true. The fever and the spells of chills and sweats were gone. There was still a faint buzzing in his head and his temples ached a little, but mostly he felt himself again.

Thunder rumbled out of the south. The clouds gathered there were very dark, almost black, and rising ever higher into the sky. One bugger of a storm was on its way.

"What is with that?" Daveth asked. "It's colder than a dwarven miner's arse, it's practically winter here, and there is a thunderstorm building to the south… over the frozen wastelands of all places!"

"That storm has nothing to do with weather." Alistair replied.

A faint itch tickled the spot between Alistair's eyes and he glanced off to the south. The horde was gathering. He could almost hear them yammering away in his mind. It was very faint and muffled though, like hearing voices underwater. Duncan said that in time the voices would become clearer. Alistair wasn't looking forward to that… among other things.

"Dwarven made just like Ostagar." Daveth said as they approached the small hillock the old Warden base was perched on. "Only reason it's still standing… sort of."

With a start, Mjolnir saw a white flower with a blood red center growing from a patch of marshy ground not even a foot from him; the flower the Kennel Master had asked him for. He'd forgotten about it. It seemed the taint had punctured a hole in his memory as well. The elf quickly knelt and picked the flower, tucking it into a pouch on his belt. He happened to glance up at the Warden base and saw a wolf standing beside a large block of white stone. The animal seemed to realize he was looking and froze for a second or two before turning tail and fleeing behind the ruins. Not normal animal behavior.

"Be careful." Mjolnir warned as he slowly stood up.

"What is it?" Alistair asked. "Did you see something?"

"Yes, but I cannot explain it. Be cautious anyway."

The blond nodded, thinking a little ruefully that Mjolnir had more the makings of a leader than he did… even if he didn't say much.

As they approached the ruin Mjolnir had the feeling that they were being watched. He scanned the area, but saw nothing. The feeling persisted however. Who or what was out there? He thought of the wolf that he didn't think was really a wolf. He thought of Daveth's stories of witches that lived in these frozen swamps.

"Damn…" Alistair grumbled.

The Warden was crouched in front of what appeared to be a large chest. The wood had been splintered open and inside… nothing but a few large brown mushrooms growing on the wet wood.

"They're gone." The man sighed. "The treaties aren't here."

"Show yourself!" Mjolnir bellowed suddenly, making the other three jump. "I cannot see you, but I know you are there!"

A soft tittering laugh from somewhere inside the ruins answered the elf. Alistair straightened up and instantly drew his sword. Jory and Daveth drew their weapons as well. Mjolnir did not draw his bowstring, but he fitted an arrow regardless.

"My, my. Your elf is a smart one." A woman's voice said.

"Show yourself." Mjolnir repeated.

There was a steep ramp in the center of the ruins that must have once run up to a second level. A dark-haired woman suddenly appeared at the top. She was dressed in rags and carried a crudely crafted mage's staff in one hand. A cruel, amused smile curled her full lips.

"And what have we here?" She said, addressing Mjolnir more than the other three. "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amongst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?" The woman continued speaking as she walked down the sharp incline with an easy grace. "Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

Morrigan considered the four men before her. The elf that had sensed her somehow had no expression on his face, but she doubted very much that he felt nothing. He was just good at guarding his thoughts. The other bowman and the blond that looked like a simpleton were both regarding her with anxious suspicion. The one with the two-handed sword looked about ready to jump out of his own skin.

"What say you?" She asked. "Scavenger or intruder?"

Although she addressed herself to the Dalish, she did not expect he would be the one to answer. He wasn't. The blustering blond human did. Now that, she expected.

"We're neither." He said stiffly. "The Grey Wardens once owned this tower."

"'Tis a tower no longer." She replied. "The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse." She circled around the small group, pleased by the three humans drawing back from her. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go?', I wondered, 'why are they here?' And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

Mjolnir looked this woman up and down. Except for her sharp yellow eyes she looked much like any other human that he had encountered. She was a mage, that much was clear, and he wondered if she had taken the form of the wolf he'd seen earlier.

"Treaties." He said.

The woman cocked her head, that amused yet cruel smile on her lips again. "Pardon? I didn't quite catch that."

Mjolnir was about to repeat himself when Alistair interrupted.

"Don't talk to her. She looks Chasind, and that means others could be nearby."

"Oohh." The brunette mocked. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you!"

"Yes, swooping is bad…" Alistair muttered.

Mjolnir was again about to speak, to say the woman was not a barbarian but some kind of mage, when Daveth interrupted this time.

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!"

"'Witch of the Wilds'?" The mage repeated, sounding most unimpressed. "Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own? You there, elf." She smiled. "The Dalish are not shivering little boys. The Dalish do not believe everything they hear. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine. Let us be civilized."

The elf stared at her, his dark eyes unreadable. She was just beginning to think he wasn't going to answer her when he spoke.

"Mjolnir."

"Morrigan." She said, only somewhat mocking the elf's brisk reply. "Now, shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is no longer there?"

"'Here no longer'?" Alistair interrupted. "You stole them, didn't you? You're… some kind of… sneaky witch-thief!"

Mjolnir shot him a somewhat weary glance and Alistair felt his cheeks flush. Why did he always trip over his tongue at the most inopportune times?

"How very eloquent." Morrigan sneered. "How does one steal from dead men?"

Alistair squared his shoulders and seemed to get a hold of himself. "Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them."

"I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here if you wish; I am not threatened."

Alistair's grip on his confidence did not last long. He seemed to wilt before Mjolnir's eyes. Sighing softly, the elf took pity on him.

"Who removed the papers then?" Mjolnir asked.

Morrigan's condescending sneer melted at once into a smile. A smile that never touched her strange golden eyes. A smile that Mjolnir did not trust.

"'Twas my mother, in fact."

"Can you take us to her?"

"Now there is a sensible request." She laughed. "I like you."

Usually she would have a man eating out of her hand at this point, but the elf's stolid expression did not change. Morrigan was not perturbed. She would soon be rid of them anyway.

"Come with me then, if it pleases you." The woman said, turning and heading off into the bushes.

"I'd be careful." A voice murmured behind her, the insecure fool she thought, "First it's 'I like you!' but then… zap! Frog time."

* * *

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

Flemeth held in a mad cackle as she looked over the group Morrigan had brought her. The balding knight was not even worth her time. He would not survive the Joining. He was too weak. The superstitious brunet might survive the Joining and she thought that if he did he would suit Morrigan's purpose. The blond, their leader she was surprised to discover, was already a Warden and may also serve Morrigan well despite his suspicions. The Dalish elf in the back might be a problem. He would survive. He was already sick, but he would survive. The elf was not a Korcari Dalish, he wouldn't have come anywhere near her if he were, but there was Korcari elf in him. There was a certain savagery in his dark eyes that only the Korcari elves possessed. Not even the Antivan Dalish could hold a candle to the ferocity of the Korcari elves. Yes, the elf would be a problem. His wind was already up, more so than the others, Morrigan had made a mistake at some point and the elf had picked right up on it. It was troubling, but could be handled.

"You are as much as I expected." She said finally.

"Are we supposed to believe you were actually expecting us?" The blond scoffed.

"Believe what you will." Flemeth replied simply.

"We are losing what little light we have left." The elf said.

"R-right." The blond stammered. "Your, uh, daughter tells us that you have… obtained the Grey Warden treaties."

"I have. And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected them."

"You…! Oh… you protected them?" Their leader asked a little incredulously.

Flemeth held in another chuckle. She saw a certain man in this blond fool's face. Oh, if only the boy knew…

"You expected differently? Wait here."

Flemeth vanished into her hut. Jory and Daveth squirmed under Morrigan's watchful glare. Alistair had his own watchful glare on Morrigan. Mjolnir kept his eyes on the open door of the hut. He recognized Flemeth as the bigger threat despite her "little old lady" appearance.

"Here you are." Flemeth returned and held out four tightly rolled scrolls fastened with red wax. The symbol of the Grey Wardens could clearly be seen pressed into the wax seal.

"Thank-you." Alistair said, tucking the scrolls safely into a small pack.

"Such manners." Flemeth chuckled. "Always in the last place you look." She looked down at her feet. "Like stockings."

Alistair, Jory, and Daveth exchanged a puzzled look. Mjolnir remained ever silent and attentive.

"Time for you to go then." Morrigan said with something that sounded like relief in her voice.

"Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests."

"Oh…" The witch sighed. "Very well. Follow me. I will lead you out of the woods."

"We can find our own way out. Thanks." Alistair replied.

Flemeth laughed, "If you want to reach Ostagar before the darkspawn I suggest you allow Morrigan to lead you."

"I-i… very well."

Morrigan sighed again. "Come along then."

The sky was just beginning to darken when Morrigan left them about thirty minutes outside their camp. The clouds were closer than ever and lightning flashed almost overhead.

"Come on. We have to hurry." Alistair said, leading them quickly toward the camp.

The tickle between his eyes was more noticeable now. The darkspawn, like the clouds, were closer. Somewhat against his will, Alistair found himself eager for the upcoming battle.

"Do you know that your eyes are glowing?" Daveth asked.

Alistair glanced over his shoulder to see that Mjolnir's eyes were indeed glowing a faint green in the increasing darkness. Duncan had told him to expect this, but it was another thing to actually see it.

"I know." Mjolnir replied.

"W-why are your eyes glowing?" Jory stammered. The more he learned about this elf the more unnerving he became.

"So I can see in the dark, I imagine."

"Can all elves see in the dark?" asked Daveth.

"I do not know. You would have to ask them."

The former thief grinned and clapped Mjolnir on the shoulder, "Duncan lucked out with you, I tell yah. Those darkspawn won't stand a chance against us."

Mjolnir acknowledged Daveth with a nod, but he did not speak.

"Who goes there?" A voice shouted.

"Alistair of the Grey Wardens!" Alistair shouted back. "And three Grey Warden recruits. Open the gate!"

"Alistair!" The voice said, "We were starting to worry about you lot. Open the gate!"

With a low creaking groan the massive gate swung inward to admit the group and a small band of smiling soldiers greeted them.

"Took you long enough." One of the soldiers teased.

Alistair laughed, "I'd like to see you guys do better!"

"I will return shortly." Mjolnir said, slipping off before Alistair could respond.

The elf made his way toward the kennels where the dogs were still barking their endless chatter. The Kennel Master was crouched down, painting a Mabari with a bright red paint the humans called 'kaddis'.

"I've brought it."

The Master jumped at the sound of Mjolnir's voice and glanced over his shoulder. When he saw the flower in the elf's hand he grinned widely.

"You found one! Excellent! I didn't want to lose such a promising member of the breed. I'll make this into an ointment right away! Thank-you!"

The Kennel Master took the flower from Mjolnir and the elf approached the pen of the sick Mabari. The dog hadn't moved since he last saw him. A puddle of foamy drool had collected under the animal's head and its breathing had slowed considerably.

"What will happen to him now?" Mjolnir asked.

"Well, this should help him recover quickly." The Kennel Master replied, crushing the flower up in a mortar. "After that… I don't know. His master died in the last battle. Maybe… maybe we could imprint him on you."

"Imprint?"

"Mabari are different from regular dogs. They choose their master and stay with them for life. It is hard to re-imprint a Mabari that has lost its master, but he could come to recognize you as a new master."

"You think it possible?

The man shrugged, "Maybe. You did help save his life after all and Mabari are whip-smart, I tell you. See me after the battle. We'll see if he'll imprint."

"I…" Mjolnir looked down at the Mabari. It stared up at him with one overbright eye. "If I survive the battle, I will return."

"Excellent." The Kennel Master grinned. "Now I best be using this cure on him and readying the rest of the dogs."

The Dalish nodded and melted into the growing shadows without a word. Elven servants, including Pik, were running about the camp lighting lanterns and small fires to provide light.

"Ah, there you are." Alistair smiled when Mjolnir stepped into the firelight. "Wondered where you'd gone."

"Duncan?" Mjolnir asked.

"Off to ready this ritual." Daveth replied. "This is it, boys. We're almost in. Going right into combat after. You ever been in a battle before, Mjolnir?"

"No, but I have killed."

"Humans?" Jory asked.

Mjolnir's gaze fell upon him and the knight squirmed, already wishing he hadn't said anything.

"Some were human, yes."

"So? How did it go down?" Daveth asked eagerly. "How many did you kill?"

Mjolnir leaned against a stone column behind him and didn't reply.

"Not saying, huh? I never been in a battle before either. Been in a few tavern brawls… killed a guardsman once. Didn't mean to, not something to be proud of, but… there it is. What about you, ser knight?"

"I've taken part in grand melees, but those are never to the death. Mostly the knights just spend their time training, chasing down cutpurses, and keeping the elves in the alienage in check."

Mjolnir's head whipped around sharply. "What is an 'alienage'? I do not know that word."

"It's a slum, mate." Daveth said. "A cesspool where most elves live because they're too poor to afford anything else… not that humans would really allow them to afford anything else."

Jory gaped at Daveth who just shrugged.

"I see." Mjolnir's eyes had taken on a steely look. "So elves are either servants or paupers in your human places."

"Sorry to say so, but yeah." Daveth replied.

"Are you mad?" Jory hissed.

"He's got a right to know the truth." The cutpurse said.

"You're warping his view of humans!"

"I am not a simpleton." Mjolnir interjected. "I have seen for myself that there are humans who are of good character." He glanced at Alistair. "I have known that there are 'good' humans and 'bad' humans just as there are 'good' elves and 'bad' elves since childhood. I am not content to paint everyone with the same brush."

"I think that's the most you've said all day, my friend." Daveth teased.

"Quite possible." Mjolnir replied, the side of his mouth curling faintly in what could have been a smile.

"It is ready." Duncan said, stepping into the orange circle of their firelight. "If you will follow Alistair, we will begin."

"We're ready!" Daveth grinned.

"Excellent." The Warden-Commander smiled. "You will need that courage to face what is to come."

"…Courage?" Jory repeated. "Just how much danger are we in?"

"I will not lie, we Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are."

"I have come this far." Mjolnir said. "I will see it through."

"…Yes. Yes. Let's have it done." Jory murmured.

"Follow me, please." Alistair said.

Mjolnir, Daveth, and Jory followed after Alistair while Duncan went off to speak with a small group of huddled mages. Mjolnir recognized the route they were on. They were heading up to the temple where Mjolnir had found Alistair earlier.

"Nervous?" Daveth asked him.

"No."

"Guts of steel, you've got." The brunet grinned. "I'm about ready to wet my breeches."

Mjolnir glanced at him, "Humans are so eloquent."

Daveth blinked, amazed by the fact that Mjolnir had actually teased him. He laughed. "That we are, mate. That we are!"

"I don't like this…" Jory said as they neared the top of the ramp that led into the temple.

Daveth snorted exasperatedly. "Are you blubbering again?"

"Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?"

"Maybe it's tradition… or maybe they're doing it just to annoy you."

"I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade."

The four of them stood in a little group, listening to the wind howl and the distant rumble of thunder. A short distance away a large stone table glowed in the moonlight and a silver cup, large enough for a man to wear as a hat, sat at one corner of the table. They waited in near silence. Only the occasional rumble of thunder was heard.

"At last, we come to the Joining."

Mjolnir and Daveth turned to see Duncan walk passed them toward the table and the waiting goblet.

"The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation." Duncan came to a stop beside the table and turned to face the small group of recruits. "So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint."

"W-we're going to drink the blood of those… those… creatures!" Jory spluttered.

Daveth looked surprised by this news, but determined all the same. Mjolnir had suspected this ever since Alistair said the blood had to be a pure sample.

The Warden-Commander nodded solemnly and approached them. "As the first Grey Wardens did before us and as we did before you. This is the source of our power and our victory."

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon." Alistair explained.

Jory was pale and drawn in the moonlight. Mjolnir thought the knight might pass out or vomit… or both. The elf looked over at the silver cup that awaited them and his bad shoulder flared with sudden pain. Duncan did not lie. There was darkspawn blood in that cup all right.

"Well… let's get this over with, then." Daveth said.

Mjolnir nodded in agreement and folded his arms, trying not to grimace as his shoulder throbbed once more.

"We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?"

The blond cleared his throat lightly and bowed his head. Duncan bowed his head as well and the recruits followed the two Wardens' lead.

Alistair let out a shaky breath and spoke, "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."

Everyone looked up again as Duncan retrieved the chalice from the table and approached Daveth with it held out in front of him.

"Daveth, step forth."

The cutpurse straightened up and stepped forward, taking the cup in his hands. Daveth hesitated for a fraction of a second, staring into the goblet, before he raised it to his lips and drank. Mjolnir's breath seemed to stick in his lungs.

"Ahhh." Daveth grinned a little and handed the cup back to Duncan.

It only took an instant. The man's grin faded and he stumbled backward. The pain in Mjolnir's shoulder flared to a whole new excruciating level and the buzzing, gone until now, swarmed in his mind. The Dalish grunted and curled his hands into fists, trying to hold back both the pain and the buzzing.

Daveth swayed on his feet then grabbed his head in both hands and let out a scream of pain that curdled Mjolnir's blood. It had gone wrong for Daveth. He could see it in Duncan and Alistair's faces.

The man screamed again and flung his head back. His eyes flew open and Jory lurched backward so quickly he nearly fell over. Daveth's eyes had rolled up into his head, showing only the whites.

"Maker's breath!" Jory gasped.

A third scream trailed off in a horrible gurgling noise and Daveth fell to his knees.

"…I am sorry, Daveth." Duncan said softly.

Daveth choked once, twice, and then fell flat on his face at Duncan's feet. Though he knew that Daveth was dead, Mjolnir still went to crouch by the man. He rolled Daveth onto his back and felt the pulse point on his neck. Nothing. He knew there would be nothing. Mjolnir closed the man's eyes, which were no longer white, but green and glassy.

"Step forward, Jory."

Mjolnir looked up to see Duncan approaching Jory and the knight backing away, one hand unsheathing his sword.

"Jory, no." Mjolnir warned.

"I can't…! Had I known!" He backed himself right up against the wall.

"There is no turning back." Duncan replied.

"No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!"

Mjolnir slowly straightened up as Duncan unsheathed his own weapon. Jory's face contorted into an expression caught between fear and rage and he lunged at Duncan. The Warden-Commander dodged both of Jory's wild blows and struck, stabbing the knight at just the right angle, piercing his heart.

"I am sorry." Duncan whispered as the man fell against him. Jory's face now registered only shock.

Mjolnir shook his head sadly as Jory fell to the ground, dying almost instantly as his own blood pooled around him.

"…But the Joining is not yet complete."

Duncan sheathed his dagger. Mjolnir saw that the man's hands shook as he did this.

"You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good." Hands still shaking, Duncan handed the cup to Mjolnir.

The Dalish stared at his reflection in the blackish red swill. The buzzing, the pain, it was almost unbearable. Mjolnir looked down at Daveth and Jory's bodies then took a deep breath and lifted the cup. The blood was cold and slimy and tasted how death itself would taste. It was sour and it scorched his throat all the way down.

Vaguely, far away, he heard Duncan speak. "From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

Someone took the cup from his hands, which was a good thing as he would have dropped it a second later. He'd thought the pain had been unbearable before. He was being pulled apart, his head was being crushed, his guts wanted to crawl out of his mouth. The buzzing in his mind became voices, thousands of them chattering all at once. Mjolnir screamed just once and it was a sound that Alistair never forgot. The elf's throat suddenly closed and he had no air to breath. He felt himself falling backwards and then Mjolnir was lost to the darkness.

* * *

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

"He's not awake yet." Alistair said, peering worriedly down at Mjolnir. "It's been nearly a half hour. That's too long…"

"He still lives." Duncan replied, nodding at the elf's steadily rising and falling chest. "The taint was already eating Mjolnir alive when he took the Joining. His process will be different. Stay with him. I will return shortly."

Floating down into the darkness. The blackness. Yes… Mjolnir allowed it to envelope him, allowed its suffocating gloom to constrict every part of him.

_Mjolnir._

Tamlen?

_Mjolnir, you have to wake up. You're stronger than this. Don't let it take you._

Am I? Am I strong? I do not feel so.

_You have always been the stronger one._

I miss you.

_This is not the place for you, Mjolnir. Go back._

For you, I will.

Mjolnir swam up from the darkness, breaking its hold on his limbs. He became aware of raindrops pattering on his face and of cold stone beneath him.

"Tamlen…" He murmured, eyes slowly sliding open.

But Tamlen wasn't there. It was Alistair and Duncan who looked down upon him with mixed concern and relief.

"Mjolnir?" Alistair asked tentatively. "Are you… can you… move?"

The Dalish found that he could and he slowly sat up, rubbing a sore spot on the back of his head.

"Thank the Maker." The blond sighed.

Mjolnir said nothing. The pain in his shoulder was still there, but the feeling of extreme fatigue was gone. The buzzing and the voices were gone as well. He felt better than he had in days and yet… something was changed. The taint was still inside him, he could feel it coursing through his veins, but its attack on his body had slowed considerably. It seemed that Duncan had been correct. The Joining had extended his death sentence from a few months to… who knew? Years, maybe?

Alistair offered his hand to him and Mjolnir took it, allowing the man to help him to his feet.

The elf's gaze swept the area. The bodies of the two other recruits were gone and the rain was quickly washing away Jory's blood. He had been unconscious for some time it seemed. "Where are Daveth and Jory?"

"I took their bodies to the infirmary." Duncan replied. "They will be cremated after the battle."

"I see."

"How do you feel?" Alistair asked.

Mjolnir's mind cast back to the darkness and Tamlen's voice. Had it been Tamlen? Speaking to him from the Beyond?

"Mjolnir…?"

"Fine. I feel fine."

"The battle is nearly upon us." The Warden-Commander said. "When you feel ready, I ask that you accompany me to a meeting."

"A meeting?"

"The King is discussing strategy for the upcoming battle. I am not sure why he has requested your presence. The meeting is to the West, just on the other side of these ruins. Please attend as soon as you are able."

Mjolnir nodded and Duncan briefly laid his hand on the elf's shoulder before departing.

"I nearly forgot. Here…" Alistair held something out to Mjolnir.

The elf held out his own hand and Alistair dropped what appeared to be a necklace into his palm. Mjolnir brought the trinket closer to his face. It was indeed a necklace, a triangular crystal vial only about an inch long on a simple leather cord. There was something murky and blackish red in the vial. Mjolnir's shoulder gave a familiar pain and he recoiled, frowning and holding the trinket out at arm's length.

"We put some of the blood in a pendant to remind us… of those who didn't make it this far."

Mjolnir did not need jewelry to remind him what had been lost, but he saw that Alistair was wearing his own pendant tucked into the safety of his armor and relented. He slipped the cord over his head and followed Alistair's example, tucking the vial into his armor. The crystal was cold against his skin and he shivered.

"I have to go update the other Wardens. You remember where to go?"

Mjolnir nodded and Alistair gave him a fleeting grin before he turned and vanished down the ramp. The Dalish tilted his face up toward the sky, letting the rain sluice down his cheeks and brow. He looked to the south as thunder crackled loudly overhead. A strange sensation tickled the spot between his eyes and his shoulder prickled unpleasantly. A snatch of muffled voices echoed briefly in his head and he understood. The Wardens could hear them; hear the darkspawn.

Thunder, louder than before, boomed and Mjolnir was brought back to reality. He slicked his hands over his already wet hair and set off down the ramp. In the distance he could see the human King, Duncan, a human warrior, a priest, and another robed man gathered around a long table. Two elves, one was Pik, held a long piece of fabric high over their heads, protecting the maps and candles on the table from the rain.

"Ah, here he is." The King grinned as Mjolnir approached. "This is the elf I wanted you to meet, Loghain."

The other warrior, a man around Duncan's age clad in silver armor, turned to regard Mjolnir. Now this was a warrior that the elf would expect to find here. Loghain carried himself much better than his King, exuding an aura of strength and experience.

"Dalish." Loghain said, looking a little surprised. "Your father knew a Dalish once, Cailan. Unrivaled with the bow; great warriors. I am… pleased to meet you."

Loghain held his hand out to Mjolnir. The elf glanced at Duncan, who nodded, and Mjolnir shook the man's hand; brief but polite. After Loghain released his hand Duncan motioned him over and Mjolnir went to stand by the Commander. It seemed the human King had brought him here to meet his General and nothing more. No one spoke directly to Mjolnir while they discussed this Loghain's battle strategy. It seemed to be a solid plan, but Mjolnir wondered why they did not use the gorge to their advantage. It would be much easier to manipulate the darkspawn there, but Mjolnir said nothing. He'd been summoned to sate the human King's whim and nothing more.

"-to flank the darkspawn. Yes, I remember." Cailan interrupted both his General and Mjolnir's thoughts. "But who will light this signal?"

"I have some men stationed at the tower." Loghain replied.

"However, the signal is very important. I think we should send our best. Have Alistair and Mjolnir light the signal."

Loghain frowned, "I don't think-"

"Your Majesty," The robed man interjected. "There is no need to send men to the tower. My mages can signal the Teryn's men-"

"No lives will be dependent on your spells, mage." The priest interrupted tartly.

"They already are, madam." The mage replied just as cuttingly. "Or do you forget that my mages and I battle the darkspawn alongside the King's army while you sit on your rump in camp?"

The woman's mouth fell open. "Why, you impertinent-!"

"Enough!" Cailan shouted. "Uldred, we need every mage on the battlefield and you won't be able to signal Loghain from there. The tower is the best option. We'll stick with the plan. Alistair and Mjolnir will light the signal at the Tower of Ishal."

"Yes, Your Highness." The group murmured.

"Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the Archdemon appearing." Duncan said after a brief and slightly awkward silence.

"That's what your men after here for, correct?" The King replied cheerily.

"I… yes, Your Majesty."

"Brilliant. Let us prepare then."

The King and Loghain walked off with the priest and mage in tow. The elven servants quickly rolled up the maps and snuffed out the candles before scurrying off after the others.

Mjolnir glanced at Duncan. The man was staring off into the distance with a vaguely uneasy look on his face.

"…Commander?"

Duncan blinked and looked over at the elf. "Duncan. Call me Duncan. Come. Let us find Alistair."

They didn't have to look far. Alistair was waiting for them outside the ruins looking both nervous and excited.

"What'd he say?" Alistair asked as Duncan and Mjolnir approached.

"There." The older man nodded at the bonfire they'd gathered around earlier.

Once in the firelight, Mjolnir and Alistair stood facing Duncan. The man stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He still looked pensive.

There was a lengthy silence and then, finally, the Commander spoke, "The King has chosen both you to light the signal at the Tower of Ishal-"

"What!" Alistair exclaimed. "You mean I won't be in the battle?"

"You've been tasked with the most important job, Alistair. Grey Wardens will do what is needed to end the Blight, exciting or no."

The man sighed. "I get it. I get it. But, just so you know, if the King ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."

Mjolnir glanced sidelong at Alistair. "…You have some strange ideas about your King."

"I happen to look very fetching in a dress." Alistair replied with a grin. "Plus, it'd be a good distraction, wouldn't it? We could just walk up and kill the darkspawn while they roll about laughing."

Mjolnir blinked, unsure of how to respond to such a statement. Duncan sighed and shook his head though a small smile curled his lips. He was used to Alistair's sense of humor it seemed.

"How do we know when to light this signal?" Mjolnir asked. "And the Tower? Where is it?"

"The tower is across the bridge you traversed earlier. Alistair will know where to go and what to look for."

Mjolnir nodded. He was ready. Anticipation and blood were on the wind. The battle loomed ever closer like a bright-eyed monster in the darkness.

"Duncan… may the Maker watch over you." Alistair said.

"May he watch over us all." The Commander replied, "I will see you after the battle."

With that Duncan turned and faded away into the rainy gloom. A growl of thunder didn't quite cover the sound of many marching footsteps in the distance. The horde was approaching.

"Leave anything you won't need here." Alistair said, setting his own pack against one of the stone columns that encircled the bonfire.

Mjolnir nodded and left the yew he intended to turn into a bow with Alistair's things. After some debate he decided to take his mother's journal with him and tucked it into a pouch on his belt. He fastened his dagger about his waist and shifted the scabbard until it rested comfortably in the small of his back. Bow and quiver ready, he nodded to Alistair and they set off together.

The wind howled and the rain pelted down. The cries of many voices, human and inhuman, rose up from the valley. Alistair and Mjolnir watched from the mouth of the bridge as the first vestiges of the horde began to appear in the tree line.

Far in the back of Mjolnir's mind, the elf could hear the darkspawn's true voices, chanting for human blood. With the exception of a few, the darkspawn weren't an intelligent lot. They had a 'hive mind' that connected them to the Archdemon, a truly clever being.

The darkspawn struck first, one of the Generals motioning for them to attack. The humans answered with a volley of arrows and a wave of Mabari. The stone beneath Alistair and Mjolnir's feet actually began to quake as the darkspawn and human lines charged toward each other.

"Come on!" Alistair shouted over the noise of the storm and the battle. "Let's get going!"

As he ran along, Mjolnir again wondered why the humans hadn't taken advantage of their surroundings. The bridge would have been an ideal spot for a battalion of archers and mages to rain down death, but only a handful of soldiers with ballistas had been placed here. Not enough to do any real damage and not enough to defend the bridge.

The valley below swarmed with soldiers and darkspawn. Blood already stained the grass and scented the wind. Giant horned darkspawn, easily ten feet tall, hurled great chunks of rock and even bits of tree trunk at the bridge. A boulder exploded against the bridge, sending chips of granite and marble flying in all directions. A chunk of whirling stone cut Mjolnir's arm as he raised it to protect his face and Alistair was knocked down when a large rock struck him in the side. A less fortunate soldier was decapitated by the next chunk of marble that flew through the air and blood, warm in the cold sting of the rain, splattered on Mjolnir's face and neck.

"Alistair."

The Dalish crouched by Alistair. There was a small cut on the man's head and the impact of the stone left him nearly breathless, but he wasn't too badly injured.

"Blood… on… your… face."

"It's not mine."

Alistair's gaze fell upon the headless body behind the elf and he nodded, already getting his wind back. "Help me… up."

Mjolnir straightened and clasped onto Alistair's forearm, tugging the man to his feet. Already more than half of the soldiers manning the ballistas were dead or dying. Screams of rage and pain echoed throughout the valley. Mabari barked and snarled as they ripped darkspawn apart.

"We have to keep going. We can't miss… the signal." Alistair said.

The pair ran the length of the bridge, Alistair holding his smarting side, through a gauntlet of flying rock and body parts. Twice they slipped in pooling blood and only regained their footing thanks to Mjolnir's quick reflexes.

Once on the other side of the bridge Alistair paused for breath, leaning against a tree and panting harshly. There was a sizeable dent in his armor where the rock hit. No doubt he had just as good-sized a bruise to go with it.

Through the low-hanging boughs of the pine trees Mjolnir saw a disconcerting sight. Soldiers were running haphazardly this way and that. Most of them were wounded or carrying wounded and they were all coming from the direction of the tower.

"Something is wrong." He said, glancing at Alistair.

Still holding his side, Alistair straightened up and turned around. He saw the soldiers fleeing in all directions and cussed under his breath.

"Come on."

As they approached the gate to the tower two soldiers fled down the ramp. One was young, just barely out of boyhood, with a heavily freckled face. The other soldier was older by half with a wine-colored scar on his cheek. Both were deathly pale, but neither seemed to be hurt. The older soldier spotted Mjolnir and Alistair approaching and ran toward them.

"You! You're Grey Wardens, right?"

"We are." Alistair replied. "What's going on?"

"The tower, it's been taken." The younger soldier wheezed, hands braced on his knees and trying to get his wind back.

"What do you mean?" Alistair demanded. "Taken how?"

"The darkspawn. They came up through the lower chambers. They're everywhere. Most of our men are dead." Scar replied.

"Damnit! We'll just have to fight our way through and light the beacon."

Mjolnir nodded his agreement. Scar and Freckles seemed apprehensive about this plan. Neither Alistair nor Mjolnir waited for them to make up their minds and ran swiftly up the ramp and through the gates toward the Tower of Ishal.

Darkspawn immediately converged on them from all sides and Mjolnir felled three of them in quick succession. Though bruised and hurting, Alistair also joined the fray, striking the monsters down with his sword and blocking their attacks with his shield.

Scar joined them not long after, followed closely by Freckles. The rain washed most of the gore away, but it still burned exposed flesh and left their skin feeling itchy and crawly wherever the darkspawn blood had touched.

The shrieking gibbers of the short darkspawn, Alistair called them 'Genlocks', could be heard in the distance. It was not going to be an easy journey to the tower.

Alistair scanned the sky over the battlefield. "No signal yet."

"But if we don't hurry we'll miss it while running through the tower." Scar said.

"We'll make it." Alistair replied with a conviction that he didn't really feel.

Thunder cracked overhead, loud enough to shake the very ground and temporarily block the sounds of battle. The group made their way swiftly but cautiously along, slaying darkspawn as they moved. They found a few more survivors, but they didn't know anything more than what Scar and Freckles had already told them.

"They just… swarmed us…" A bloody-faced soldier had whispered before running off into the night.

Alistair looked up at the looming tower, squinting his eyes against the rain. If they hadn't known what was going on you could almost say the tower was quiet. The torches were lit and no movement could be seen in any of the many windows that dotted the structure. The wooden front doors were ajar, but undamaged.

"I see nothing." Mjolnir said, also looking the tower over. "But we must be cautious."

The two soldiers nodded in agreement and Alistair realized, with mingled relief and sheepishness, that Scar and Freckles saw Mjolnir as the leader of their little entourage; a role the elf seemed to take on naturally.

The Dalish turned to the young soldier, "Your name?"

"M-mathias, ser."

"Mjolnir. Not 'ser'." Mjolnir replied. "Do you use that well?" He asked, pointing to a crossbow strapped to Mathias' back.

"Yes, s- Mjolnir. I'm a great shot."

"He is." Scar agreed.

"Your name?"

"Etienne."

"You use a melee weapon. Good." Mjolnir pointed at his comrade. "You and Alistair take point. Mathias and I will thin their numbers."

"Crowd control." Mathias said, a weak grin on his lips.

"Do you say so?" Mjolnir cocked his head slightly. "Very well. Mathias and I will handle crowd control."

Etienne nodded then he and Alistair slipped through the gap between the doors and entered the tower. Mjolnir and Mathias entered shortly after. Mjolnir's light footsteps were the only ones that didn't echo in the vast room they found themselves in.

The illusion of quiet of the tower's outside was dashed in an instant. Small fires raged everywhere, slowly consuming the tapestries on the walls. Blood and bodies were strewn everywhere. Mjolnir felt his stomach do a slow forward roll. The darkspawn had brutalized most of the bodies beyond recognition and some had been partially eaten. Behind him, Mathias retched.

"I was… outside when they came… I didn't know… I didn't think it would be so bad…"

The boy doubled over and was sick. Etienne shifted his weight anxiously.

"We don't have time for this." He said.

"We do." Mjolnir replied calmly.

"We _don't_." The soldier replied with an edge in his voice.

The Dalish's dark eyes settled on Etienne, "You would rather that this overcomes him during a vital moment?"

"I… no."

"Then, we have time."

The soldier fell into a grudging silence and they waited for Mathias to gather himself. Once his stomach was empty the lad moved to stand shakily beside Mjolnir. His skin was milk white, but his eyes were set and determined.

"Now." Mjolnir said, slipping into the few shadows there still were.

Mathias followed the elf and Alistair and Etienne set off ahead of them.

It seemed with the raid on the tower finished the majority of the darkspawn had returned to the battlefield. They only encountered stragglers on their journey up the tower's many spiraling steps and through its immense rooms. The group had found the spot where the darkspawn entered the tower on the first floor. There was a huge hole in the scullery floor. The monsters had dug their way up through the soil and rock with no problem at all.

In between dispatching darkspawn Alistair glanced out the windows facing the battlefield, looking for the signal. He feared that they had missed it.

"We're only halfway up." He said to Mjolnir, darkspawn blood and sweat poured down his face. "We have to pick up the pace or the King will be overwhelmed before we reach the top."

Mjolnir nodded in mute agreement and moved off again, setting a swifter pace.

Stair after stair. Floor after floor. They spiraled up the tower encountering less and less darkspawn as they went, but there were always bodies. The darkspawn had done a thorough job of cleaning out the tower before returning to the battle. Mjolnir wondered if the assault had actually begun before the fighting in the valley. If not, the darkspawn were quick little blighters.

They were nearly to the top when Alistair had to stop. His side was throbbing in pain and he was starting to wonder if he was hurt worse than he originally thought. Maybe he'd cracked one of his ribs after all. Mjolnir stood ever silently beside him while he took time to recover. The man could sense both Etienne and Mathias' anxiety, but Mjolnir was a calm and cool presence. He smiled slightly, thinking that the Dalish's demeanor could probably calm a rampaging Bronto.

"All right. I'm good." He said, straightening up with only the slightest wince.

"You are sure?" Mjolnir asked.

"Yes. Let's go. The King is depending on us."

It was the fact that the last few floors had been utterly deserted that made Mathias a little more relaxed and therefore reckless. The lad sprinted up the last staircase, ignoring Mjolnir's shouts, and opened the door to the top floor without thought. A rumbling growl answered the creak of the opening door.

"Mathias! Look out! Get back!" Alistair shouted from the base of the stairs.

One darkspawn had remained on the top floor to feast on fallen soldiers. Mathias stumbled back, but much too late. The Ogre snatched one giant hand out and grabbed Mathias around the leg, dragging the screaming boy out of sight. The rest of the group heard a wet sickening crunch and by the time they reached the top of the stairs the Ogre had eaten half of Mathias, armor and all.

Mjolnir immediately nocked an arrow and let it fly. The darkspawn roared and stumbled back as the arrow popped one of its eyes like an overripe grape. Etienne stared at the remains of his comrade then rushed at the Ogre with an angry bellow. The darkspawn answered in kind and ripped the arrow from its eye. With a show of speed that spited its size the Ogre picked up a piece of rock as thick as a tree trunk and hurled it at Mjolnir. The elf dodged the projectile and the rock shattered against the floor. Little shrapnel-like pieces of stone peppered Mjolnir's arms and neck, drawing blood here and there. Alistair dodged another chunk of stone thrown by the Ogre and Etienne landed a cut to the beast's abdomen. With a roar of pain the monster struck out at Etienne, hitting him hard with its fist. The man flew through the air and landed awkwardly on his head with a sound like a dry stick snapping. Etienne did not move again. He was dead.

Mjolnir shot arrow after arrow, trying to find other weak spots on the Ogre other than its eyes. The darkspawn lowered its head and charged at him like an enraged bull. The elf rolled out of the way just in time.

"The ankles!" Alistair yelled from across the room. "The abdomen, the head, and the eyes!"

Mjolnir did not need to ask what he was talking about and instantly unloaded two arrows into the beast's ankle. It let out another ear-shattering roar and limped away from the elf. Alistair took the opportunity to quickly run by, striking out at the Ogre's abdomen, widening Etienne's cut. The monster bellowed loudly in pain, stumbling as its guts began to spill. Mjolnir grimly followed after it, shooting armor-piercing arrows into the back of its head. With a weak growl the darkspawn sank to its knees then slumped to the ground, rolling onto its side and finally going completely still. Alistair stood over it and brought his sword down, sinking the blade deep into the monster's skull. So deep in fact that he had a hard time freeing it again.

"It seems like overkill." Alistair panted. "But Ogres are tricky. Just because they look dead doesn't mean they are. You have to set them on fire or strike a heavy blow to the head or heart." Still panting, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "We'd better light the signal. We'll have missed the one from the battlefield by now."

Mjolnir nodded and grabbed a torch from a bracket on the wall, tossing it into the nearby fireplace and lighting the tower's signal. He turned back to Alistair and suddenly froze, his skin going a pale ashen grey. Alistair immediately turned to the Ogre, but it was still dead. Then he heard it too. They'd been so focused on the Ogre that they hadn't heard the hundreds of footfalls running swiftly over stone. Another swarm of darkspawn was quickly surging its way up through the tower.

"Alistair! We must-"

The door bursting completely off its hinges interrupted Mjolnir. The elf felled four of the darkspawn that swarmed in, but there were too many. Alistair watched in horror as no less than seven or eight arrows pierced Mjolnir's body at different points. A string of bloody drool rolled down Mjolnir's chin as his mouth froze in an "o" of surprise. The Dalish managed to get off one more shot, killing one more darkspawn, before he almost gracefully fell onto his back.

Alistair decapitated the nearest darkspawn and ran for Mjolnir, hoping against hope that the elf wasn't dead. He couldn't see his comrade in the cloud of darkspawn. The Warden swung his blade blindly, slicing up darkspawn left and right.

He was nearly to the spot where Mjolnir had fallen when a great flare of pain emanated from the base of his neck, driving him to his knees. He didn't need to reach back and feel the arrow to know that he'd been shot. Alistair forced his body into motion, crawling toward Mjolnir, when two more arrows plunged into his back. The world greyed before Alistair's eyes and the man sank to the ground. The grey mist began to blacken and Alistair's consciousness started to retreat. He dragged himself one more inch along the floor and then was swallowed up by nothingness.

* * *

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, its rays a fitting bloody red as they stretched across the remains of battle. Blood trickled through the grass like small streams, ballistas and trees that had been set ablaze in the night now gently smoldered and smoked, and a light mist hung over everything. The air was cold and silent. Only a solitary figure moved among the ruins. A Mabari, his tawny coat caked with darkspawn blood, cautiously skirted the edge of the battlefield with his nose in the air, sniffing in a very determined way.

This Mabari still occasionally thought of himself as Cowslip although his Redheaded Mistress was gone. She had taken him into battle with some Others. They had been cut off from the main battalion and the Dark Ones had overwhelmed them. His Mistress' Others had been killed and she wounded gravely. His Redheaded Mistress could not fight so he had fought for her. He had ripped out the throats of any Dark Ones that came too close, but they'd not gone down easily. The Dark Ones hurt him, cut into his flesh, and their blood had burned his throat, nose, and eyes, but he stayed with his Mistress. Even when the sky darkened, he stayed. It was one of the giant Dark Ones, the kind with the horns, that came along to find him weakened from his wounds. He growled and snapped and tried to protect his Mistress, but the Dark One easily batted him away and scooped his Mistress up.

He followed them. Other Dark Ones, dragging or carrying Others, moved alongside them. None of them took notice of the Mabari following behind. The bitter cold of the swamp stung his wounds, but Cowslip never faltered. His Mistress was awake, but very weak. She watched him silently, tears rolling down her cheeks, as he trailed along. They soon came to a cave of sorts set into a frost-swept hillside. The grey scent of Death came from the cave. Cowslip was afraid, but still he followed.

"No!" His Redheaded Mistress had suddenly shouted weakly at him. "No, Cowslip! No! I am lost! Go back! Go back to Ostagar!"

He knew The Ruins, but he did not want to leave his Mistress. He followed.

"No! Go back!"

He stopped in his tracks then, whining uncertainly. He wanted to rescue his Redheaded Mistress, but he also did not want to disobey her. He stood there, long after the Dark One had vanished into the depths of the cave, the scent of blood in his nose.

His Mistress was gone. He knew that. He knew what the Death meant. Though he was weak and sick, he obeyed his Redheaded Mistress' last order. He returned to The Ruins.

The time after that was full of strangeness and pain. He had dreams of his Mistress turning into a monster; a thing that was swollen and grotesque and when she screamed her face split open horribly. Pain wracked every muscle in his body. Everything was red, he was angry, and he snapped and growled at anyone who came close. He could feel the Death inside him, eating him alive.

And then… such a soothing presence, a presence that had touched his fevered mind and calmed him. A curious man, the likes of which Cowslip had never seen before, was with him. The man had strange pointed ears, much like his own. The man smelled of fresh soil and sunlight, of nature and not of man. His rage subsided. He let this man help him. He thought of his Mistress when he looked at this man and knew they were of the same make.

He was very weak when the man returned. Drool puddled beneath his head, but he hadn't the strength to move. He saw the flower the man had and watched as the Gaoler crushed it up.

"You're a lucky hound. I think he's taken a liking to you." The Gaoler said, gently spooning some of the mixture into Cowslip's mouth before rubbing the rest on his wounds.

Strength and life flooded him and he understood. The man had saved him. The flower the man brought had made him better. He knew then that this man would be his new Master. He still missed his Redheaded Mistress terribly, but he knew that she would not want him to be alone. His kind were not meant to be alone.

He learned from the Gaoler that the man was called a Dalish. As his strength returned, his excitement grew. He was anxious for his Dalish Master to return. But he hadn't returned. Instead Death came to the camp. The Gaoler was killed while releasing the Mabari who had to stay behind.

Cowslip had run then. The Dalish Master's scent was still strong; it hung in the air as a bright green band among the multicolored tangle of other scents. He ran through blood and bodies and fire. He tore down any Dark Ones in his path, but didn't linger.

He was halfway across the Long Bridge when a frightening and unrecognizable scent enveloped him. The Mabari skidded to a stop and flattened his ears to his head, watchful and waiting. There was a mighty roar that shook the very stone and a great beast flew by him, nearly flattening him with the wind from its wings. He saw the Dalish Master clutched in one of its clawed feet and the smell of Death had invaded his bright green scent.

Cowslip was not discouraged. He followed the Winged Beast and when it was out of sight he followed its scent. It was as distinguishable as the Dalish Master's, a vivid purple band.

He followed the scent all night, giving the battleground a wide berth. The sun had just begun to lighten the sky when he observed the Dark Ones again dragging people, still alive, underground. There was a pang for his Mistress and then he continued on. The Beast's scent went into the Wilds. He would follow. He would not go back this time.

The first thing Mjolnir became aware of was sunlight warming his skin. He turned his face away from the light and slowly opened his eyes. He found himself staring at a blank and decidedly dirty wall. There was a lumpy softness beneath him. He was lying on a musty-smelling, but seemingly clean bed.

He'd been stripped to the waist and his hand came up to touch his bare shoulder. The furrows were still there, but that was not what perturbed him. What perturbed him was that he should be dead. He'd felt the fatal arrows pierce his throat and his heart. He felt his skull crack against the stone when he fell back. He should be dead. The Keeper had warned the Hunters time and time again that some wounds, especially fatal wounds, went beyond the help of magic. Someone very powerful had saved him…

With a pained grunt, the elf sat up. The cabin he was in consisted of one large room. It was grubby, but warm as a rather large fireplace nearly took up one wall. A dark-haired woman, the mage they had encountered before he realized, was standing in a far corner putting books back on a shelf.

"So… you finally awaken."

She turned to him and smiled. He did not return the gesture.

"My armor and my weapons. Where are they?" He asked.

"Very much to the point, are we?" The woman chuckled. "Your things are there." She motioned to a chair on the other side of the room. "No one has touched them… beyond taking them off you."

Mjolnir stood and stiffly crossed the room. He looked in his deerskin pouch, relieved to see that his mother's journal was still there.

"Alistair?" He asked, starting to put his armor back on.

"He lives. He is outside by the fire. Hopefully he is done blubbering by now."

The elf paused, staring at the belt he clutched in his hands. "What has happened?"

"The man who was supposed to answer the signal you lit quit the field. Those he abandoned were massacred."

Mjolnir felt a twinge of grief. "So… the Commander… and the human King."

"All dead." Morrigan replied without compassion.

The Dalish synched his belt shut and slung his bow across his back. "How did Alistair and I get here?"

"Mother turned into a giant bird and rescued you from the Tower." Morrigan replied. "If you do not believe that you can ask mother yourself. She may even tell you the truth."

With a slight wince Mjolnir strapped his quiver of arrows to his back.

"Mother wishes to speak with you before you leave."

"Very well."

"I think I shall start dinner…" The mage murmured wandering toward a cauldron that hung suspended in the fireplace.

Mjolnir felt his throat where the arrow had pierced his flesh. Nothing. No trace of it at all. No scar tissue, no fragments of the shaft imbedded beneath his flesh, absolutely nothing. And yet… he glanced at his armored shoulder. Had even She not been able to heal it? Or did she choose not to?

"I wouldn't keep my mother waiting were I you." Morrigan said, dumping some kind of… meat into the cauldron before her.

Ah, yes. Flemeth smiled as the elf exited her hut. He looked like a Korcari Dalish now more than ever, his expression one of reluctant and ireful respect. The Korcari came from his mother. She had Seen this in his blood as it flowed over his hands. His father was from a distant land to the North. Very distant. It was a wonder he ended up where he did.

"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden." She continued to smile. "You worry too much, young man."

Alistair, who'd been staring quietly into space, turned to face Mjolnir. He smiled, though Mjolnir noticed that the man's eyes remained sad and distant.

"You… you're alive!" He laughed in relief. "I thought you were dead for sure."

Mjolnir's eyes locked onto Flemeth. "I am not. Thanks to Morrigan's mother."

Flemeth's smile grew. The elf knew from the beginning she wasn't as she appeared, but now he realized she was something entirely different than what he thought. He would be troublesome, but she had confidence in Morrigan's wit and wiles.

Alistair, unaware of the silent appraisals going on, spoke again. "I can't believe this is happening. They're all dead… the King… the Wardens… D-Duncan. If… it weren't for Morrigan's mother we'd be dead on top of that Tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I was not present, lad." Flemeth warned, gentle smile still curving her thin lips.

"I-I'm sorry. It's just… you've never told us your name."

"Names are pretty, but useless. Though if you insist upon calling me something the Chasind call me Flemeth, I suppose it will do."

"…_The _Flemeth? From the legends? You're… the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

Oh, how these lesser beings never ceased to amuse her with their stories and gossip. "What does it matter? I know a bit of magic and it has served you both well, has it not?"

Mjolnir's lip curled in a slight sneer. 'A bit of magic'? Quite the understatement.

"Why did you save us, then?" Alistair asked. "Why not Duncan and the King?"

"You two were the only ones I could reach." The woman replied. "Had you not been Grey Wardens I _would_ have left you there to die. However, it has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the land against the Blight… or… did that change when I wasn't looking?"

"The land is hardly united." Mjolnir said. "The humans' General saw to that."

"That doesn't make any sense." Anger tinged the sadness in Alistair's voice. "Why would Loghain do this?"

"Now that is a good question." Flemeth replied. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he thinks the Blight is an enemy he can outmaneuver… or perhaps he cannot see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"The archdemon." Alistair said grimly.

"Then we must find and slay the archdemon." Mjolnir replied.

"By ourselves?" The man asked incredulously.

"Of course not." Mjolnir replied. "You have those treaties with you still, I hope?"

Alistair went slightly wide-eyed, looking like he'd just been punched, and for one dreadful moment Mjolnir thought the man had left them in Ostagar. His fears were allayed however as Alistair produced a metal cylinder that had been attached to his belt.

"Of course! The treaties! They compel mages, elves, and dwarves to help the Wardens during a Blight! And…. And Arl Eamon! We could go to him too! He wasn't at Ostagar so he still has all his men and he would never stand for Loghain's treachery!"

Mjolnir had no idea who this Arl person was, but he nodded his encouragement, glad to see life in his comrade's eyes again.

"Well, well." Flemeth chuckled. "It seems you have a plan. Are you ready for what's to come? Are you ready to be Grey Wardens?"

"Of course!" Alistair replied, holding the cylinder of treaties as if it were made from delicate crystal.

The woman laughed again and that sneer reappeared on Mjolnir's face. He didn't like the witch's laugh. It felt like spiders were crawling up his spine when she laughed. Behind him he heard the door to the hut open and close. He glanced over his shoulder to see Morrigan approaching them.

Flemeth saw her daughter as well and smiled, "Before you go, there is something I would like to offer you."

"The stew is bubbling, mother. Shall we have two guests for dinner?" Morrigan asked, flashing an icy smile at Alistair and Mjolnir. "Or perhaps… none?"

"The Wardens are leaving shortly, girl." The old witch replied. "And you will be joining them."

"Such a shame… what!" Morrigan's head snapped around and she stared at her mother disbelievingly.

"You heard me, girl. The last time I checked you had ears."

Flemeth suppressed a laugh of pure mirth. If looks could kill the elf would have struck her dead several times over by now. He didn't like this. Not one bit. He would accept it though. She would see to it.

"What makes you think we want her?" Alistair asked, giving voice to Mjolnir's thoughts.

"Her magic will be useful. She also knows the Wilds and how to slip passed the horde."

"Have _I _no say in this!" Morrigan demanded.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance. As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

Alistair was at a loss. They did owe their lives to this woman, but taking her most likely dangerous apostate daughter with them? He glanced at Mjolnir for help and was quite glad he wasn't on the receiving end of the look on the Dalish's face.

"It is true you saved our lives." Mjolnir said darkly. "We will take her with us, as you wish."

"Excellent." Flemeth chuckled.

Morrigan did not agree with her mother's view. "Mother… this is not how I wanted this. I… I'm not even ready."

"You must be ready. Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they were surely fail and all with perish under the Blight… even I."

The elf was immediately suspicious, Flemeth saw that, but she still had faith in Morrigan's talents. The Dalish was of no use, but the blond was malleable. Morrigan would work her way with him easily despite his obvious distaste of her.

"I… understand." Morrigan sighed, turning to face the Wardens. "Allow me to get my things, if you please."

"And you two? Do you understand?" Flemeth asked as Morrigan left to collect her belongings. "I give you that which I value the most. I do this because you must succeed."

"We understand." Mjolnir replied.

"I'm not so sure about this…" Alistair whispered to the elf. "Are we really just going to bring her with us because her mother says so?"

"We owe a debt whether we asked for it or not. She will come with us."

The man sighed, "All right…"

"That is a most interesting wound you have there." The witch's voice broke in suddenly.

Both Mjolnir and Alistair looked up at Flemeth, the latter looking wholly confused.

"It was given to you by a tainted thing, but it was a lesser creature." Flemeth smirked. "It still proved to be resistant to healing; even my magic could not help. Such a strange world we live in."

Alistair, knowing he had no more wounds on his body, glanced curiously at Mjolnir. The elf did not look at him, his face was stony.

"Strange indeed." He replied quietly.

The hut door slammed and Morrigan again joined them, oblivious or uncaring of the tension in the air. The woman now carried a small pack as tatty as her clothes. She looked torn between bitterness and acceptance.

"I assume you have no provisions on you?" She asked.

"Just our weapons and the treaties." Mjolnir replied.

"I have some coin too." Alistair said.

"Then I suggest our first stop be Lothering. You can re-stock there. 'Tis not far. We won't arrive there before dark, but by next morn' or early afternoon."

Mjolnir nodded. He'd been to Lothering before, but had no idea how to get there from the Wilds. He'd never been this far south before.

"Well then…" The brunette turned to her mother. "Farewell, mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut."

"Bah." Flemeth snorted, her geniality vanishing for the first time. "It is likely that if you return you will find my hut, along with everything else, swallowed up by the Blight."

"I…" Morrigan's eyebrows knitted together as her expression became something wholly insecure. Whether this was a genuine emotion or not, Mjolnir hadn't decided. "All I meant was…"

"Yes, I know." Her mother replied, flapping her hand and pasting her smile on once more. "Do try to have fun, dear."

The witch removed a pouch from a pocket in her dress and handed it to Morrigan. There was a silent exchange between the two women and Morrigan nodded, slipping the pouch into her rucksack.

Alistair lapsed into silence the moment they left the clearing in which Flemeth's hut stood. The elf walked just as quietly beside him and Morrigan led the way. She thought about both of her new companions as she walked. The fool's silence was sad, still sulking over the loss of his friends she suspected. The Dalish's quietness was merely thoughtful and calm. His silence was just a part of who he was.

Neither of them trusted her, but the elf more so. She couldn't imagine what her mother had been thinking, placing the success of the Wardens entirely on her. Such a grand statement made the elf very suspicious indeed. With a sigh the woman glanced down at the small cloth sack she carried with her. Her mother's gift, she dare not open the bag to see exactly what it was, would shield the Grey Wardens from the darkspawn senses… at least for a time. They would have to reach the northern edge of the Korcari Wilds before nightfall at the very least.

Mjolnir walked alongside Alistair without a sound. Once in a while the man would sniffle and reach up to wipe a tear from his eye or the side of his nose. Mjolnir said nothing. He understood what Alistair felt. He'd had his time of grief and silence and he would allow Alistair his. The man would speak when he was ready to speak.

The stars were beginning to twinkle overhead and the full moon was nearly risen when Morrigan broke the silence,

"We should make camp. We are far enough from the horde, but the Wilds hold much danger at night."

"Very well." Mjolnir replied.

The group found a small sheltered clearing to make camp in. Mjolnir immediately began to collect firewood and Alistair listlessly followed his example. Morrigan dug through her pack and brought out an apple, regretting that she hadn't at least eaten a spoonful of stew before leaving her mother's hut.

"Do you have a knife, elf?" She asked, holding her apple up.

Mjolnir ignored her and she smiled. She liked this one already even if he was as receptive as a dead fish.

The woman bit into her apple, watching as Alistair dropped his pile of sticks and twigs beside Mjolnir's before sitting down with a sorrowful plunk. A tear shone in the corner of the man's eye and Morrigan looked away in disgust. How could someone who gave into weakness so easily be a Grey Warden?

"Are you going to share any of that?" Mjolnir asked, squatting down to arrange the firewood and kindling.

"No." Morrigan replied.

"I see."

"Are you going to force me to share?" The woman smirked.

"No."

"Such a shame." Morrigan sighed.

Again, the elf ignored her and removed two small pieces of flint and steel from his pouch, striking them together. Sparks rained onto the dried grass and twigs that had been gathered and an orange lick of flame illuminated their faces.

Mjolnir set a hand on Alistair's shoulder. "I will be back. Keep the fire going."

Alistair, staring into the flames, nodded almost imperceptibly.

The Dalish patted Alistair on the shoulder and headed off into the woods, aware of Morrigan's gaze following him the whole way. He didn't particularly like leaving Alistair alone with her, especially in the state the man was in, but there was no choice. He was starving and he was sure Alistair was too. Food needed to be found.

The Wilds were alive with sight, sound, and smells he'd never encountered before. The air never got so cold in the Brecilian Forest so smells were sharper. There were plants that moved of their own accord (he stayed far from those) and strange birds swooped overhead, piping spine-chilling songs.

It wasn't long before he came upon fresh tracks, some kind of hare by the looks of the almost dainty footprints sunk into the mud. He moved silently through the brush, following the tracks. Somewhere up ahead, leaves rustled. Mjolnir debated briefly about which weapon to use then readied his bow. The leaves rustled again and Mjolnir watched as a fat hare emerged cautiously from the bushes ahead. It looked much wilder than the rabbits and hares in the Brecilian Forest and its fur was a dark dappled grey he'd never seen before. However… meat was meat. The hare squealed once as the arrow pierced its throat and then it was dead. Mjolnir emerged from his cover and picked the animal up by the ears, removing his arrow from its throat. Thinking that Alistair had seen enough blood and guts for the moment, Mjolnir gutted and cleaned the animal before returning to camp.

Alistair was throwing more wood on the fire when Mjolnir returned. The elf spitted the hare and returned to his seat beside the man. Alistair looked at him and smiled very briefly before returning to gazing into the fire. Mjolnir held the hare in the flames, turning it slowly, and letting it cook. The meat smelled a bit wilder than usual, but it was still a delicious scent. Alistair's stomach grumbled loudly and Morrigan looked a bit jealous of Mjolnir's meal.

Once the animal was cooked to a deep brown Mjolnir unsheathed his dagger and cut a strip of meat off. It was a little fattier than rabbit meat and the grease burned his fingers a bit. He transferred the meat to his other hand and licked the oil from his slightly sore fingertips.

"Here. It's hot." He said, holding the meat out to Alistair.

The man took the food and began to eat automatically. Mjolnir cut off another strip and held it out to Morrigan.

The woman sniffed at him and turned her nose up. "I don't need your charity, elf."

"Suit yourself, witch."

The meat was tough and wild and greasy, but still tasty and Mjolnir's stomach accepted the food gratefully. The Dalish cut the hare apart strip by strip until there was no good meat left. Afterward, he dug a deep hole at the edge of camp and buried the remains so hopefully no predators would come sniffing around.

"Thank-you." Alistair said quietly, wiping his fingers on his knees.

"You are welcome."

Morrigan snorted, Mjolnir ignored her, and Alistair continued to stare into the fire. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings. The meat Mjolnir had fed him settled uneasily in his stomach. He kept thinking of Ostagar. Every Warden… even Duncan… gone in one night. How were they going to defeat the archdemon now? Loghain had struck them a crippling blow. A flare of anger ignited in Alistair and his mouth tightened. How could he? "The Hero of River Dane" had betrayed them all. And for what? The throne? He very much doubted that it was cowardice that had motivated Loghain.

The night went on in silence. Alistair eventually lay down on his side, facing away from the flames, but he did not sleep. Neither Mjolnir or Morrigan intended to sleep either, the elf was not tired and Morrigan did not trust them not to leave her behind while she slept. She glanced up from the flames to see the elf watching her rather intently, his gaze traveling up and down her body. Inwardly, she smirked.

"Have a care as to where your eyes linger, elf."

His gaze immediately locked on her face, "Do not flatter yourself, witch. Your kind do not interest me."

"My kind?" Morrigan tittered. "What 'kind' would that be? 'Apostate'? Human? Female?"

"The last two, I assume. I do not know what an apostate is."

"Truly?" The brunette raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Yes."

"So if you weren't lusting then why were you staring?"

"At this point, I do not trust you. I was determining the best place to strike on your body to disable you should you prove to be treacherous."

Morrigan chuckled. Oh, she _really_ liked this one. It was too bad he was not interested in 'her kind'. That could have been a lie, however, or perhaps she could convince him otherwise if he spoke the truth.

"Proceed with your determining then." She said with a dark smile.

The Mabari had not slept at all during the night and only stopped once since Full Light had turned the sky blue. He'd paused because he had a small wound between his toes. It didn't hurt wretchedly, but it was quite annoying. He'd stopped to chew vigorously on his paw before moving on, following the Dalish Master's scent. He was almost caught up to the Dalish Master. The color of his scent was brighter and the smell stronger. There were new smells with the Dalish Master's too. A man with a bright blue scent and a woman with a light purple scent. The Woman smelled a little bit like the Winged Beast, but she was not the Winged Beast. He wasn't quite sure if he liked her scent yet. He liked the Other Man's smell though. He smelled of Man: metal, leather, and other animals; horses and oxen and such.

The hound stopped suddenly, a growl sounding deep in his chest. Dark Ones, their scent the same color as the Death, a dark misty grey. The Dark Ones were ahead of the Dalish Master. They were going to cut him off. The smells in the air told him so. Still growling, he ran off again. He would not let the Dark Ones hurt his Dalish Master.

Morrigan suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as she walked along behind her companions. It had been much of the same since they'd left camp that morning, Alistair walked along in broody silence and Mjolnir either ignored her or gave her a studious stare that made her feel rather naked. She did not like anyone making her feel that way. It was she who should be making others feel that way. They were nearly in view of Lothering however and hopefully that would distract the elf and his miserable fool for a while.

"Stop." Mjolnir said suddenly.

Both Morrigan and Alistair jerked to a surprised stop. Very faintly in the distance, they could hear a dog barking. Without speaking, Mjolnir readied his weapon. Alistair and Morrigan quickly followed suit though neither of them knew why a barking dog was cause for concern.

However, it was not just the dog that had alerted Mjolnir. His injured shoulder was paining him. He waited patiently, an arrow nocked and ready to fly. From around the bend ran a large tan hound. A smile curled Mjolnir's lips. He could scarcely believe it. It was the Mabari he'd helped cure at Ostagar! The animal must be very smart indeed to first survive the slaughter and then track him down.

The elf did not let his guard down as the Mabari approached.

"It won't hurt us." Alistair said.

"I know." Mjolnir replied. "But they will."

"What?"

The dog came to a halt a few feet from them and barked a warning before turning back to face the way it came. He flattened his ears to his skull and growled as a group of darkspawn came running around the bend. One of them received Mjolnir's arrow in the face and it fell to the ground. The leader of the darkspawn group wore a horned helmet and more elaborate armor than its followers. This was an Alpha and they were generally smarter than 'regular' darkspawn. The Alpha looked down at its fellow, who's blood was already pooling beneath its head, then looked back up at the group. The monster growled and drew an invisible line across its throat, a clear message of intentions.

"Ugh. I dislike these things. 'Tis impossible to get their smell out of my clothes." Morrigan sighed before shooting a ball of lightning at the nearest darkspawn.

The Mabari and Alistair charged at the creatures and Mjolnir rained down more death with his arrows. The Dalish didn't yet trust Morrigan, but he had to admit that she was a competent fighter. She felled darkspawn just as quickly as he did, laughing brightly as she did so.

It was not long before the darkspawn, even the Alpha, lay dead in the dirt. Mjolnir watched their tainted blood soak into the earth, knowing that nothing would grow here for years because of it.

The Mabari, limping slightly, came up to him with a doggy smile on his face. Mjolnir smiled back and scratched the hound behind the ears.

"Good to see you again, my friend." He said.

The Mabari barked happily and gamboled around the elf.

"You know this dog?" Alistair asked, sounding amused for the first time since leaving the Wilds.

"I do. I helped cure him."

"He must have been out here looking for you then. He's… chosen you. Mabari are like that."

"Does this mean we're going to have this mangy mutt following us about now? Wonderful…" Morrigan sneered.

"He is not mangy." Mjolnir replied and the hound barked in agreement. "Now… you need a name."

"Stubby?" Alistair suggested, nodding at the tiny nub that served as the Mabari's tail.

The dog growled softly in his throat. He didn't like that name at all.

"No… he needs a proper name, a noble name…" Mjolnir absently scratched the Mabari behind the ears as he thought. "…Yggdrasil."

The hound barked in joyful understanding and licked Mjolnir's hand.

"I think all this sappy nonsense is going to make me vomit." Morrigan said, stepping over a darkspawn corpse and continuing on her way.

But not even Morrigan's snark could dampen the Mabari's spirits. He was with his Dalish Master now and he had a new name: Yggdrasil. He liked it.

* * *

**TBC**

Just in case you're not a "Norse nerd" like me:

Mjolnir = **myawl**-nir

Yggdrasil = **ig**-_dr__uh_-sil


	12. Chapter 12

Because of the qunari redesign I'm unsure if Sten now has that greyish skin or not. For now, I'm going with the DAO skin color.

Also, I had no idea that you could go to the RM in the Lothering Chantry and get the key to Sten's cage from her until my third play through as I played a rogue until then and just picked the lock on the cage XD;;;

* * *

The minute he rounded the bend Mjolnir saw there was going to be trouble. A group of armed men were waiting near the entrance to Lothering. Many things that couldn't possibly belong to them, like a woman's blue silk dress and a child's pet lamb, were arranged behind them in haphazard piles. One of the men looked up, saw the group approaching, and smiled in an exceedingly oily manner.

"Wake up, gentlemen. More travelers to attend to."

Yggdrasil laid his ears flat and growled deep in his throat.

"Easy." The elf laid a hand on the hound's neck. Yggdrasil wagged his stubby tail.

"Bandits." Morrigan sneered. "Just kill them and let us be on our way."

Alistair was silent, but his hand went to the pommel of his sword.

"Look at this, lads." The bandit leader grinned. "They're being led by an elf of all things."

"Hmn, yes. An elf that can put one foot in front of the other. Imagine that." Morrigan said scornfully.

Caught off guard by the witch's remark, Alistair nearly laughed and ended up snorting instead. The bandit leader didn't think it so funny.

"Just pay the toll and you'll be on your way." He said. "You'll have to pay extra for the cheeky bitch though."

Now the bandits laughed. Morrigan's golden eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

Mjolnir took a deep breath and approached the lead thug. "I do not kill unless it is necessary." In one swift motion he drew his bow and aimed an arrow, the tip less than a few inches away from the bandit's left eye. "Please do not make it necessary for me to kill you."

The thieves went utterly silent. A sheen of sweat broke out on their leader's upper lip as he eyed the arrow in front of him.

"Right. Well. I rather enjoy… you know… living so… uh…"

"Leave everything you stole and do not come back." Mjolnir said.

"Anything you say!" The bandit laughed nervously and backed away, still very aware of the Dalish's arrow on him. "Come on, lads! Best not to test the kind ser's patience!"

No one argued and they all ran off with their tails tucked between their legs. Yggdrasil snapped playfully at the bandit leader's heels as he ran by. The man let out a high-pitched scream and redoubled his running speed.

Mjolnir stifled a grin. "Bad dog…"

Yggdrasil just grinned his doggy grin and waggled his behind. He knew his Dalish Master wasn't really scolding him.

"We will have to find some kind of human authority." The Dalish said, looking over the piles of goods. "There is a child wanting their lamb back somewhere in the village."

"There are Templars in Lothering." Morrigan replied in a bored voice. "Tell them."

"Very well then, I will. Come on."

They walked down the ramp that led into Lothering. Mjolnir took one look around and knew that they weren't going to find much here. The horde was swarming up from the south. Almost everyone had pulled up stakes and fled. Only the most stubborn farmers and refugees too weak to travel had stayed behind.

"And here we are: Lothering. Pretty as a painting." Alistair said dryly.

"Ah, so you've finally decided to join us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?"

The elf sighed and scratched Yggdrasil behind the ears. The witch did everything she could to antagonize both Alistair and himself… and everyone else in sight. Was this because of her isolated upbringing? Or was she simply an unpleasant woman?

"Is my being upset _so_ hard to understand?" Alistair retorted. "How would you feel if someone close to you died? Just what would you do if your mother died?"

"Before or after I stopping laughing?"

"Leave him alone." Mjolnir said without turning to face her.

"But how can I? He's there… just staring at me with his empty calf's eyes."

"Enough." The Dalish did not raise his voice, but it had turned very stony.

Morrigan smirked at his back, but didn't speak another word.

"So… I guess we need a plan of action." Alistair said, glaring sidelong at Morrigan.

"That would be advisable." Mjolnir replied, his tone warming again.

"Got any ideas?" The man asked sheepishly.

The Dalish glanced at him. "This Arl of yours sounds like he will be the easiest to convince. We will start there and work our way toward the harder goals. I fear finding my people will be the most difficult. They moved north long ago."

"But there are other Dalish clans in Ferelden." Alistair pointed out.

"True. Shall we start with getting some supplies?"

"Lead the way."

Morrigan rolled her eyes. Couldn't Alistair do anything other than cry and follow?

* * *

They found a templar first and reported the bandits' looted goods. Despite the fact that Mjolnir had talked to him the templar had given a fifty silver reward to Alistair then left to attend to the thieves' stash.

"Here. It should be yours…" Alistair mumbled, red-faced and holding the coin out to Mjolnir.

Mjolnir waved him away, though not unkindly. "I have no use for humans' coin. Keep it."

There were few merchants left in Lothering and what supplies they had were very sparse indeed. Mjolnir tried to talk Alistair out of buying him supplies, but the blond wouldn't hear of it. He was still a little embarrassed by the Lothering templar's behavior.

"Tents, bed rolls, waterskins, packs, and a pot… got everything but food." Alistair said. The man scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should try the tavern? They were probably one of the first to run out of food, but it couldn't hurt to try."

Mjolnir assented. In his view buying food wasn't essential, there should still be plenty of game for him to hunt, but it wouldn't hurt to have some rations just in case. The wildlife was fleeing north just as quickly as everyone else.

The tavern was packed with refugees, chantry sisters, bards, and drunkards. The air was thick with the scent of human sweat and alcohol. Mjolnir's nose wrinkled as a human stumbled up to him, breathed alcohol-laden fumes in his face, and passed out at his feet.

"Great plan, Alistair." Morrigan quipped from behind Mjolnir.

Alistair took a note from Mjolnir's book and ignored the woman, navigating his way through the crowd towards the bar. Amongst the babble of many voices talking at once Mjolnir's keen ears picked up on someone spitting out the words "Grey Warden" as if they were poison. He scanned the crowd and saw a small group of soldiers, four men, shaking a paper in the face of a terrified refugee.

"It's not every day a Dalish wanders into Lothering!" The soldier growled. "Have you seen him? Loghain wishes him found!"

"No, ser! I swear I haven't!" The refugee spluttered.

Loghain? Now… that was a familiar name. It appeared that the human General had left some men to deal with himself and Alistair. They had to get out of here. Now.

Mjolnir was swiftly moving toward Alistair when the tavern master spotted him and shook his head.

"No. Oh, no." He said in a carrying voice. "We don't serve your kind in here."

Alistair, confused, turned and saw Mjolnir coming up behind him. He pivoted back to the barman, frowning.

"What did you just say to my friend?" The blond growled.

"You get that animal out of here… and the hound too." The barman said pompously. A few of the patrons at the bar guffawed noisily.

Mjolnir grabbed Alistair firmly by the bicep and dragged him backward. The soldiers would look over any minute. They had to leave. Both Morrigan and Yggdrasil had picked up on the Dalish's urgency and they readied themselves for trouble.

"This man is not an animal! This man is a-"

"Alistair, no!" The elf snapped.

"-Grey Warden, just like me!"

Those two words had an instant effect on the entire pub. Everyone went very still and quiet. A man at the bar actually dropped his ale in surprise. The sound of the tin stein hitting the floor was very, very loud in the deathly silent tavern.

Alistair turned to Mjolnir looking more confused than ever, "I've put my foot in my mouth again, haven't I?"

Before Mjolnir could answer the lead soldier pushed his way through the throng.

"Well, well. The Grey Wardens." He smirked.

There wasn't enough room in the crowd to draw his bow so Mjolnir unsheathed his dagger.

"Who are you and what do you want with us?" Alistair asked.

"As if you don't know!" The soldier spat. "You're traitors! You betrayed King Cailan, left him to be ripped apart by darkspawn!"

The warrior's face turned an alarming shade of red. His voice became tight and cold. "…_What_ did you say?"

Mjolnir hadn't thought Alistair capable of such raw anger until now. The crowd instinctively moved away from them, forming a loose circle around Mjolnir's group and the soldiers.

"Gentlemen, please." A new voice interjected.

A chantry sister with short red hair walked up to Mjolnir and stood beside him. He saw that she was concealing a dagger up the sleeve of her robe and instantly put some space between himself and her.

"These people are obviously just more refugees from the south." The sister continued. "Let them be."

"They're more than that!" The leader thrust the paper he was carrying in the woman's face and Mjolnir saw that it was a rather crude drawing of him. The only part the artist had really gotten right was the eyes. "They're traitors and if you protect them, sister, you'll share their fate!"

Obviously they were going to have to fight their way out. Hopefully the soldiers would consent to fighting outside. Mjolnir didn't like the idea of battling with so many innocents within blade's reach.

"Please step back." He said quietly to the sister.

"I cannot." She replied simply. "These men will blindly follow their master's orders to their deaths. I cannot allow that."

"I am not the blind one!" A soldier exclaimed, lunging at the woman with his sword raised.

Mjolnir cursed in elvish, he hadn't wanted this, and stepped between the sister and the soldier. He lashed his dagger out once, cutting the man's throat as he divested the man of his sword. The elf expected a stampede for the door, but no one moved other than to step back further. They were too frightened to make a run for it.

The remaining soldiers looked down at their comrade, who lay dead in his own pooling blood on the floor, then back up at Mjolnir. Flecks of blood dotted the elf's dark skin. His eyes were solemn. He set the dead soldier's sword on a nearby table.

"This is your chance to leave with your lives." Mjolnir said. "Take it."

The leader growled… and then faltered. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to die to day…

"Give Loghain a message: The Grey Wardens know what really happened." Alistair said.

"Yes, we will. Right away. Thank-you."

The three remaining soldiers left in a hurry and silence once again reigned in the bar. Mjolnir looked around the crowd, who again backed up hurriedly.

"Time to leave." Morrigan said.

The elf nodded and he, Morrigan, and Alistair turned swiftly and left with Yggdrasil trotting behind them. Thoughts of food were long forgotten.

Once outside the tavern Alistair picked up a rock and threw it into the nearby stream as hard as he could.

"Unbelievable! Loghain betrays the King and then blames us for it! Tries to have us killed for his… _lies_."

"Is it so surprising to you?" Morrigan asked. "Two birds with one stone."

"Excuse me…?" A hesitant voice interrupted.

The trio turned to see that the redheaded chantry sister had followed them outside.

"Those men said you were Grey Wardens. I want to come with you. I want to help."

"Ridiculous!" Morrigan laughed.

"Why?" Mjolnir asked at the same moment

"This discord… this chaos… it will only spread. I can help stop it and… and the Maker sent me a dream, a vision, He has guided me to you."

"Oh, this is priceless." The mage chuckled.

The elf studied the sister. Despite her claims of a vision, he did not believe her to be unstable. In the long past the Dalish Keepers were said to receive visions from the Gods so who was to say that this woman had not received a vision from her God?

"…What is your name?" He asked.

"You _cannot_ be serious." Morrigan objected before the woman could reply.

"Your name." Mjolnir repeated when the sister looked at him uncertainly.

"My name is Leliana." The redhead replied.

"Mjolnir." He pointed to his other companions. "Alistair, Morrigan, and Yggdrasil."

Yggdrasil barked at the sound of his name and drooled in greeting. Leliana giggled softly and patted the hound on the head.

"Can you fight, Leliana?"

"Yes. I am… just a lay-sister. I was not born in the Chantry. I'm adept with a bow, but I can fight with a dagger if I have to."

"I do not understand. What is a 'lay-sister'?"

"It means that she has the duties of any other chantry sister, but she hasn't taken vows." Alistair explained.

"I see." He didn't fully understand, but he got the gist of it. "You are sure you want this, Leliana? Our journey will be dangerous. You may not live to see its end."

The woman nodded, her eyes determined. "I am not afraid to give my life for others. I will fight for as long as I can."

"Very well then. Come with us." Mjolnir replied.

"Incredible." Morrigan grumbled. "Obviously you cracked your skull harder than mother thought…"

Leliana either didn't hear her or ignored her and she smiled brightly at Mjolnir. "Thank-you for giving me this chance. I left my things in the tavern in case you didn't. I'll be right back!"

The redhead all but skipped off, going into the tavern to fetch her belongings.

"Do we really need more crazy?" Alistair asked, looking over at Morrigan. "I thought we were all full up."

"I can set you on fire, you know." Morrigan replied.

"We need all the help we can get." The Dalish replied. "Loghain has complicated things further by branding us traitors. The treaties may no longer be enough to compel others to help."

"Yeah… you're right." Alistair sighed.

Not long after that Leliana emerged from the tavern. She'd changed out of her robe into a set of rough leather armor and had a short bow slung over her shoulder. She also carried her dagger and a small pack with her.

"Before we go… I think I know someone else who can help you." She said.

He watched as the small thing approached. It was an elf, he saw. Even when they were wiry like this one elves were still so… lean. This one was a little different than the elves he'd seen before. The skin was darker than even his own and the face was decorated with an elaborate tattoo. One of the wilder elves then, a Dalish. There was no aggression in the elf's eyes or even wariness. It looked up at him with mild curiosity and nothing more.

"I am not here to amuse you, elf. Begone."

"You are a qunari, correct?"

"I am Sten of the Beresaad, the vanguard of the qunari peoples."

"What have you done to earn yourself this cage, Sten?"

Unconsciously, Sten's fingers curled around the bars of his cage. "I have been convicted of murder."

"Who did you kill?"

"The people of a farm hold. Eight humans, including the children."

The elf's eyebrow quirked a little, but other than that his expression didn't change.

"And the humans captured you?" He asked.

"I waited for them." Sten replied. "For three days. I offered no resistance when they arrived."

"You regret what you have done?"

"Whatever I feel, whatever I've done, my life is forfeit now."

This answer would have angered or confused a human. The elf seemed to understand.

"You have chosen death as your atonement."

Sten didn't answer.

"There are other ways to atone."

The qunari snorted, "What does your wisdom say is equal to my crime?"

The elf's dark reddish brown eyes locked on his. "I seek to end the Blight. Join me. Fight for the lives you have taken."

In spite of himself, Sten found himself interested by the elf's words. "The Blight? Are you a Grey Warden then?"

"I am."

This slim little thing was a Grey Warden? That was-

"Surprising." Sten said aloud. "My people have heard legends of the Grey Warden's strength and skill. I suppose not every legend is true."

The elf said nothing. He was waiting for Sten to choose his fate.

"…Very well." The qunari said after a lengthy silence. "I will join you."

Mjolnir stepped back from the cage and looked over at the rest of his group. Alistair looked a little hesitant, but he nodded. Morrigan was being her usual "haughty and bored" self and Leliana nodded her assent. Yggdrasil barked and bounced around in circles. It was decided. The qunari had chosen to join them and they would accept him.

It didn't quite sit right with him, freeing the qunari without at least asking the humans' chantry Mother first, but Alistair pointed out that not only did they have an apostate with them; they had essentially overstayed their welcome by killing that soldier in the pub. It was best to free Sten and leave as soon as possible before anyone decided to form a mob.

The Dalish glanced around then swiftly picked the lock and opened the cage door.

"So it is decided. I will follow you against the Blight and seek my atonement within it." Sten said, stepping out onto the grass.

And so they left Lothering: the Dalish hunter, the ex-templar, the witch, the chantry sister, the qunari, and the mabari hound. A strange group to behold.

* * *

There was a village by the name of Crant just a few hours walk from Lothering. The people there were just starting to leave so there were many more merchants to buy wares from. Here Sten was outfitted with a set of heavy chainmail and bought a massive two-handed greatsword. Mjolnir caught a miniscule change in the qunari's eyes, something that looked very much like pain, when he was given the sword. The elf said nothing about it however. One of the reasons he'd decided to free Sten was because he believed there was much more to the qunari's story than what he'd told. The Dalish wouldn't push however. He never pushed unless he felt it was life-or-death. Otherwise, he found that these things came to light best on their own.

They also bought extra supplies, tents and bedrolls and the like, for both Sten and Leliana. There wasn't much food left in Crant either, but they were able to buy some dried fish, a small loaf of bread, and a few apples. It was good to have a few rations at least.

"I wish they had cheese…" Alistair sighed longingly. "I haven't had cheese in… forever."

"Redcliffe will probably have cheese." Leliana replied with an amused smile. "And real butter… maybe some goat's milk. Oh! And pie!"

"You're cruel." The man groaned… with a smirk on his face.

"We should move on." Mjolnir said. "Walk as far as we can before we lose daylight."

The village exit led into a vast forest. The trees were so thick and the road so twisted that it was impossible to see what was around the next bend. As they walked Alistair filled Leliana and Sten in on everything that had happened before Lothering. Leliana listened intently… and it was thoroughly impossible to tell if Sten was listening at all.

Mjolnir walked up front with Yggdrasil devotedly at his side.

"Look what I got, Yggdrasil." The elf pulled a small clay jar from his pouch. "Kaddis."

Yggdrasil wagged his stubby tail. He liked that stuff. It smelled sweet and creamy and it helped him to not get confused in particularly bloody battles. His Redheaded Mistress had spent hours sometimes painting his fur.

"The humans just paint whatever they want on you, correct?"

The hound barked in confirmation.

"I was thinking… some arrowheads and leaves. What do you think?"

Yggdrasil woofed his approval and gave his Dalish Master his doggy smile.

"I also got you this…"

The Mabari's nostrils flared as the delicious dark red smell of dried meat wafted over him. **JERKY!** He **LOVED** jerky! !

"It's oxen meat. The vendor said that Mabari like it." Mjolnir held the jerky out on the flat of his palm and Yggdrasil gobbled it right up.

"Someone help us!"

The voice rang out in the cold afternoon air. Someone up ahead was in trouble. Mjolnir immediately readied his bow and ran off with Yggdrasil close on his heels. He rounded the bend in the road and came upon two dwarves with a pull cart. The elder of the two was trying to fend off some darkspawn with a sword, but he wasn't at all skilled.

Mjolnir nocked an arrow and shot the nearest darkspawn right between the eyes. The dwarf whirled around in surprise, leaving himself wide open to attack.

"Yggdrasil!" Mjolnir ordered.

The Mabari didn't need further instruction. He charged the darkspawn that was ready to cut the dwarf down and ripped out its throat. Another arrow, not Mjolnir's, felled another darkspawn. The elf was impressed with the chantry sister's skills. A spell from Morrigan finished off the last attacker and the monster crumbled to ash as the fire magic consumed it.

"Phew." The elder dwarf sighed. "That was too close! Thank-you!"

"Thank-you!" The younger dwarf parroted and Mjolnir saw that this one was "a bit touched" as Ashalle would say.

"You are welcome." Mjolnir replied.

The blond dwarf laughed as Yggdrasil sniffed enthusiastically at his face. "Doggy!"

"What are you doing out here?" Leliana asked.

"What everyone else is doing, leaving before the darkspawn overrun us." The dwarf replied. "Oh, and where are my manners? I'm Bodahn Feddic and this is my son, Sandal."

The group introduced themselves, except Morrigan (Leliana introduced her).

"Might I inquire as to where you are going?" Bodahn asked.

"Redcliffe." The Dalish replied.

"Brilliant! We were heading that way and, as you saw, I can't defend my son and I worth a sod. Maybe I could tag along with you? I can pay you for your troubles."

"We are not mercenaries." Mjolnir said and Bodahn's face fell. "So you will not need to pay us."

The dwarf's smile returned in an instant. "Excellent!"

"Are we going to pick up **every** stray?" Morrigan asked acidly.

"Yes." Mjolnir replied.

"You're infuriating."

"I know."

Leliana giggled.

* * *

**TBC**

At first I was going to leave Bodahn and Sandal out because, realistically, they can't follow Mjolnir everywhere. But then I hatched a plan so I kept them in… which is good because I love Sandal. He's adorable.

Also, I think Morrigan disapproved -100 by the end of this chapter XD


	13. Chapter 13

Firstly, I would like to say a big **THANK-YOU** to all those who've read and reviewed my story. It's always nice to get feedback and it's very much appreciated :)

Secondly, I'm sticking to the DAO elven look for both Zev and Mjolnir. The DA2 look… well… not my thing (especially Zevran, oh god, they fucked up Zevran's face in DA2 big-time). Fenris and Orsino are about the only DA2 elves who's physical appearance doesn't creep me out ^_^;;

And just a reminder: Mjolnir and his father have the same name. Hopefully that will prevent any confusion in this chapter.

* * *

He was in the darkness again, but this time it wasn't constricting or suffocating. The darkness felt very open… but not empty. Someone, something, was watching him.

"Tamlen?"

"He is here, lethallin." Tamlen's voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. "Don't let him see you."

"What do you mean? Who is here?"

No answer. Something stirred in the darkness behind him and Mjolnir whipped around. At first he saw nothing but endless blackness, then… two pinpricks of yellow light shone in the distance. Eyes. Mjolnir backed up a step as those yellow orbs burned in the darkness. There was a hissing growl and the shine of razor-sharp teeth. It was a dragon. The Dalish backed up another step and reached for his bow. It wasn't there. He went for his dagger instead, but it was gone as well.

The dragon kept advancing toward him; its dark scales glistened and writhed as if each individual scale were alive. The dragon turned its great head toward Mjolnir. At the same moment that it growled a deep voice spoke in Mjolnir's head:

"Grey… Warden…"

With a lurch Mjolnir sat bolt upright.

"Whoa!" Alistair exclaimed and fell backwards as the elf unseeingly struck out at him.

The Dalish jumped to his feet, every one of his senses on edge, his heart thumped wildly against his ribs.

"Mjolnir…!" Alistair struggled to get to his feet. "It's all right. It was a dream."

A dream? Yes. He remembered… they'd made camp for the night and he'd fallen asleep in the grass next to Yggdrasil. Slowly, he came back to himself. It was only then he realized that he had his dagger clutched tightly in his fist… and that there was blood on Alistair's cheek.

"Alistair!" The elf dropped the knife, his fingers trembling. "Are you all right?"

"I'm good." The man grinned, letting Mjolnir help him to his feet. "You just knicked me."

"Abe- I… my apologies." Mjolnir murmured.

"Hey, don't worry about it. It's my fault for not telling you what to expect. Kinda… fell down on that job. Sorry."

"I don't understand."

Alistair smiled sheepishly and got out his handkerchief, pressing it to his cheek. "The Joining… it changes you. That dream you had? It was real… well… sort of. When we sleep our minds are more open to the connection we have with the darkspawn and the Archdemon and we can hear it… speak. There are a lot of those dreams in your future…"

"I see."

"You're also going to be intensely hungry for the next two weeks or so." The man laughed softly. "I slurped down every meal like it was my last when I first Joined. Duncan explained it to me… something about your body needing lots of energy for the change."

Mjolnir made Alistair move the handkerchief so he could look at his wound. It was a shallow cut, it had already stopped bleeding.

"And then… well… there's also the shortened lifespan. You've got about thirty years left, give or take."

The elf's eyebrows nearly shot up in surprise. He'd expected that his life had been extended by three or four years at the most, but thirty?

"That is… wonderful."

Alistair was confused at first, Mjolnir was the first Grey Warden he knew of that had reacted positively to this bit of information, and then he remembered that before Joining the elf surely only had weeks or months to live.

"Well, it's not all sunshine and teddy bears." Alistair said. "Near the end of your life you get your Calling. This is when the taint finally starts to catch up with you, turn you, disable you. Most Grey Wardens venture into the Deep Roads to kill as many darkspawn as they can before they die."

Mjolnir nodded. It was an honorable way to go.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you this sooner." The man apologized. "I guess… part of me still expected that Duncan would-" Alistair's voice cracked.

The elf nodded in understanding and squeezed Alistair's shoulder gently. The man smiled at him and stashed his bloody handkerchief in his pouch. There was still blood crusted on his cheek, but otherwise his injury looked okay.

"Anyway, I came to wake you up because it's your turn to stand guard. Leliana is already waiting for you."

The Dalish nodded, "Goodnight, Alistair."

"Goodnight."

The blond went off to crawl into his tent. Mjolnir picked up his knife and Yggdrasil looked up at him.

"You stay here." Mjolnir said softly. "Get some sleep."

The hound settled his head back down on his paws with a sleepy groan and closed his eyes. Mjolnir sheathed his dagger and walked over to the small fire at the edge of camp where Leliana was sitting. The woman's bow was propped on the rock beside her, ready for her should she need it.

"That was quite a nightmare you were having." Leliana said when he sat across from her. "You were thrashing about so wildly I thought you were going to hurt yourself."

"…Yes."

The woman smiled. Mjolnir wasn't very social, but at least he tried. That dark-haired witch hadn't said anything other than "get out of my way" to her since they'd been on the road.

"Would you like some?" She held up the tin cup she was holding.

"What is it?"

"You've never had cocoa before? Oh, you must try it. The qunari invented it. They make it much more bitter though. When it came to Orlais they made it a bit sweeter."

Mjolnir had no idea what Leliana was talking about so he just nodded and handed her his carved wooden cup.

"Oh wow…" The woman murmured, admiring the detailed carved foxes that chased each other's tails around Mjolnir's cup. "This is beautiful. Did you carve this yourself?"

"I did." The elf replied. "Archers must have nimble fingers so from a young age we are trained in the arts that require them."

"Wow." Leliana said again, laughing softly. "I must look like a bear trying to shoot a bow to you."

"Not at all. You are quite skilled."

"That's sweet of you to say."

She poured a measure of cocoa into Mjolnir's cup and handed it back to him. Cautiously, he sipped it. It was… delightful, both bitter and sweet and it warmed him all the way down to his toes. Leliana smiled and giggled a bit as the corners of the elf's mouth curled up slightly.

"You like it?" She asked.

Mjolnir nodded and drank again. "Since you say you were not born in your Chantry, what did you do before then?"

Leliana froze in mid-sip and slowly lowered her cup. "Oh… well… I was a traveling minstrel in Orlais."

The elf was puzzled, "And that is all? Where did you learn your bowmanship?"

"Well… you learn many skills while traveling, yes? Yes. Will you excuse me? I have to… go powder my nose."

The elf nodded and Leliana smiled at him before standing up and walking off into the bushes. Mjolnir had no idea what powdering one's nose meant, but recognized it as an excuse to leave and hopefully return to a changed subject. It seemed that everyone in the camp had a secret.

* * *

_My hair is the "color of the purest corn silk" and the "red-gold sheen" in my "deep brown eyes" is "truly captivating". I must admit, I thought myself immune to such praises, but my heart fluttered when Mjolnir said these things to me. It felt like there was a bird trapped within my chest. But… we are not of the same clan, not to mention that Mjolnir is Keeper of the Sabrae clan. I fear there will be much upheaval if he asks for me to join his clan. Abasi clan has always had trouble keeping its numbers up. I think Keeper Sevira had planned to bond me to Dalziel. I do not think I could bear that, not even before I met Mjolnir did I think I could bear that._

"What are you reading?"

Mjolnir, staggered by what he'd just read, looked up sharply at the sound of Alistair's voice.

"…If I may ask? The man added, smiling uneasily.

It was morning and Alistair had been busy making breakfast when he'd noticed Mjolnir poring very intently over a stack of bound rice paper. The elf's nose was practically an inch away from the page.

"It is my mother's journal." The Dalish replied.

"She… gave it to you before you left?"

"No. My mother abandoned me long ago. She gave it to my adoptive mother who gave it to me…" Mjolnir's fingers traced carefully down the page. "In Dalish clans it is not customary to speak of the dead. There are… so many things I did not know."

"Nothing bad, I hope?"

"No, nothing bad. Just… things I did not know."

"Well, if you ever need to talk about it I'm a good listener."

"Ma serannas, Alistair."

The man nodded, smiled, and returned to stirring the porridge. Mjolnir was still stunned. His father had been a mage? His father had been Keeper before Marethari? Why had no one told him? Did the Dalish not seek to reclaim their past? Was it not a loss to not speak of the dead? Of their pasts? Had he not gained instead of lost knowledge by learning of his parents? He didn't even know what his mother had looked like before now. He had assumed he'd gotten his unusual eyes from his father, but he'd apparently he'd gotten them from his mother. The elf set the journal aside and looked up at Alistair. He needed to take his mind off these things for a while.

"…And you, Alistair? Do you have a family?"

"Sort of." The man spooned some porridge into a bowl and handed it to Mjolnir. "My mother was a servant girl in Redcliffe castle. She died giving birth to me… and Arl Eamon took me in, raised me. Breakfast!"

Yggdrasil bounded over and nearly knocked Alistair down. The man laughed and blobbed some porridge into a bowl for the hound.

"I can give him this, right?" He asked.

Mjolnir nodded and Alistair set the bowl of food on the ground. Yggdrasil immediately shoved his face in it and chased his bowl around the fire pit, munching noisily.

"Well… there goes my appetite." Morrigan said.

"More for us." Alistair grinned, spooning some porridge into the bowl Leliana handed him.

Morrigan grudgingly took a portion of the porridge anyway and walked off to her tent, which she'd set up halfway across the field. Even Sten accepted some breakfast though the look on his face said he'd rather eat dirt.

"I like porridge!" Sandal exclaimed.

"Me too, buddy." Alistair grinned, filling Sandal's bowl.

"Thank-you, ser." Bodahn said, taking both his own breakfast and his son back to their pull cart.

"Sorry. I kind of got off track." Alistair sat beside Mjolnir with his own bowl. "The Arl took me in, but it didn't feel much like home. The Arlessa didn't like me much. There were rumors floating around that Arl Eamon was my father. She didn't appreciate that."

Mjolnir nodded, encouraging Alistair to go on, and he ate a spoonful of his breakfast. It was kind of sludgy, but tasted good. His stomach growled. He was beginning to feel the ravenous hunger that Alistair had talked about.

"Lady Isolde made sure I never really felt at home at the castle and when I was ten years old the Arl packed me off to the nearest cloister."

The Dalish looked bemused. "I thought only human women served your Chantry?"

"Only women can be priests, but men can serve in different ways. I… I was a templar."

"Those are the men who control your Circle mages?"

"Well... templars actually serve to protect both the mages and the public, but… yes… it did feel more like we were being trained to control the mages. I'm not really a templar, not a fully-fledged one anyway; I didn't take my final vows. Duncan recruited me into the Grey Wardens before then."

"Did you like it there, at the cloister?"

"Not at first, no. I was young and resentful and not very pious…" Alistair sighed and stirred his porridge, playing idly with it. "Arl Eamon came to visit, but I refused to see him. By the time I was a little more… mature about the whole situation he'd stopped visiting all together."

Mjolnir nodded sympathetically. The elf's stomach grumbled noisily and Alistair laughed.

"There's enough left over for seconds if you want more."

* * *

Mjolnir's shoulder was a searing, painful knot of misery; the cursed wound throbbed in time with his heartbeat. They had been traveling for nearly six days and his injured shoulder had been getting worse and worse every day. It was the change. He could feel something… alien within his bones, muscles, and his blood, wriggling into the cursed wound and making it burn. The taint was infecting him, changing him forever. He felt stronger, but weaker, voraciously hungry, but full, pained, but numb. Horribly vivid nightmares and visions plagued his sleep and he was exhausted. The only upside was the taint did not toy with his emotions this time around. Mjolnir kept his usual unwavering calm through it all.

The elf had hoped to be better by the time they reached Redcliffe, but the little village was now only a day's walk away and he felt worse than ever. At the moment he merely concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, quietly keeping himself moving.

Sten walked in silence beside the Dalish. He could sense Mjolnir's pain and was grudgingly impressed by how well the elf ignored it. It didn't even slow him down when required to battle darkspawn or bandits.

"So, Sten…"

The qunari turned his head to see that the redheaded Chantry Sister, Leliana, had come up beside him.

"I have never seen a qunari before." She said. "Tell me about your people."

"No."

She blinked, taken aback. "Well… I wasn't expecting that answer."

"Get used to disappointment." Sten replied.

She peered up at him, her expression telling him she wasn't sure if he was being serious or not.

He sighed, "People are not simple. They cannot be summed up neatly in a few sentences."

"Then use more than a few sentences." The woman suggested with a teasing smile.

"I am no better equipped to explain than you are to understand." Sten replied.

Unsurprisingly, the Sister looked slightly affronted by this response. Just as expectedly, the elf looked rather amused.

"Who would be appropriate to explain things to us?" The Dalish asked.

"The tamassran." Sten replied. "They are good at explaining things to children."

Mjolnir ducked his head to hide a smile; Leliana looked more offended than ever.

* * *

They were almost at Redcliffe, Alistair recognized their surroundings. He could even see the arms of the village's largest windmill over the tree tops once in a while. The blond began to sweat. He had to tell Mjolnir, it would come out anyway, and if it came as a surprise he didn't think the elf would be happy. But… he didn't want to tell him. If he did that was when the coddling or the resentment started.

The man glanced over his shoulder. Mjolnir was walking between Yggdrasil and Leliana, listening patiently as the woman talked his ear off about Orlais. Alistair chided himself for being such a coward and a dunce, Mjolnir was the least likely person to coddle or resent him. Steeling himself, Alistair stopped dead in his tracks. Leliana, preoccupied with talking, would have run headlong into him had Mjolnir not clasped onto her shoulder, bringing her to a halt.

"Mjolnir… can I… uh… talk to you?"

The elf nodded, waited. Leliana smiled expectantly at Alistair. The man felt his cheeks flushing as Sten and Morrigan stopped behind Mjolnir, both of them looking dour.

"Can I talk to you… alone?" Alistair's voice was just barely above a hoarse whisper.

The Dalish nodded again. Looking a little disappointed, Leliana started walking again with Yggdrasil at her side, now chatting about a dog Lady Cecile had instead of Orlais. Morrigan glared as she walked by and Sten regarded them both sternly before moving on. Sandal smiled benignly as he as his father walked by. Alistair waited until the rest of the group was out of earshot before he spoke,

"You know… how I told you that Arl Eamon took me in?"

Mjolnir nodded.

"Well… the reason he did that was because… my father was King Maric, which made Cailan my… half-brother, I suppose."

Silence. The elf stared expectantly at him, as if he thought Alistair had more to say.

"That's it."

"I see."

More silence. The man shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

"You… don't seem very surprised." He said at last.

"That is because I am not surprised." Mjolnir replied.

"But… I… you knew! Who told you? Did Duncan tell you?"

"Cailan's face told me, Alistair, as did yours. I assumed you shared a mother or a father, but I said nothing because I did not know if you knew."

Alistair laughed, "And here I was terrified to tell you! I… know I should have told you earlier… _much _earlier… I… apologize."

"Some secrets are not easy to let go of." Mjolnir replied.

"You can say that again." Alistair sighed.

"You must tell the others."

"Yes… I know." The man sighed again.

The reactions of the others did not surprise Alistair (or Mjolnir) in the least. Sten's expression did not change; there wasn't even a twinkle of interest in his eyes. Morrigan snorted derisively,

"Why the deception over your parentage?" She asked.

"I'd figure you'd be the sort who knows all about deception." Alistair replied sourly.

The witch smiled sweetly at him, "I do. And what use the deception might have had ended when King Cailan perished, did it not?"

"Maybe. I guess I was sort of hoping that it would go away."

"The truth does not 'go away'!"

Leliana interrupted before the fight could continue, "So you're heir to the Ferelden throne, then?"

"Maker's breath, no!" Alistair exclaimed. "It was always made clear to me that I'm a commoner and not in line for the throne. No, if there's an heir to be found it's Arl Eamon himself. He's not of royal blood, but he is Cailan's uncle… and more importantly, very popular with the people. And that's fine with me."

"Unsurprising." Morrigan sniffed.

"Well I'll be… traveling with Grey Wardens and now a prince." Bodahn murmured.

"I'm not-" Alistair sighed. "Please… don't spread that around."

"Your secret is safe with me, ser." The dwarf replied.

"Shall we continue on? Redcliffe awaits." Leliana said.

Mjolnir nodded and the group began walking again. Yggdrasil drooled on Alistair's boots before moving to walk alongside Sten.

"…And I was afraid of being coddled." Alistair said, shaking his foot to rid it of the dog slobber.

"I think that _was_ him coddling you." Mjolnir replied.

* * *

Redcliffe was a small fishing village on the edge of Lake Calenhad. The castle was perched on a plateau in the lake itself, its own private (and defendable) island.

Mjolnir exchanged a frown with Alistair. Redcliffe was not even in view yet and they both knew something was wrong. The air was still and silent. There was no sound of splashing as nets were thrown into and hauled out of the water, there was no chatter of women, and no sound of children playing. Leliana tilted her head, listening intently; she'd noticed the absence of sound as well. Neither she or Alistair noticed the vague, stale smell of rotten flesh on the wind that Mjolnir and Yggdrasil detected. The hound's ears flattened against his skull and the Dalish readied his bow just in case.

"You don't think… the darkspawn have been to Redcliffe?" Leliana asked.

"Maybe a band of stragglers, but the horde is still too far south…" Alistair replied.

The group came over the crest of the hill, Redcliffe lay below. Alistiar let out a sigh of relief; people could be seen within the village square. There was still something amiss though, there were only a few women and no children in the crowd.

"Not darkspawn, but something is definitely going on." Alistair said.

"A sentry." Mjolnir said, nodding at something in the distance.

The warrior squinted against the mid-afternoon sun. There was indeed an armed man standing on the bridge that spanned Redcliffe Falls.

Mjolnir slung his bow across his back again and walked down the hill that led into the village. As he got closer he could see that this sentry was no professional, he had his shortbow slung incorrectly, he would get tangled the minute he tried to draw it. This was a fisherman or a farmer posted here because there was no one else. This concerned the elf greatly.

"S-stop!" The sentry commanded, trying to draw his bow and getting tangled up just as Mjolnir expected.

"It's all right." Alistair replied. "We're not going to hurt you."

The sentry's eyes swept over the unusual group, his gaze lingered on Sten. The man was still tangled in his bowstring; Mjolnir took pity on him and moved to help.

"Don't come any closer, knife-ear!"

The Dalish frowned and withdrew.

"Don't call him that." Alistair said with a scowl.

"I won't if he stays away from me. State your business."

"…We're here to see Arl Eamon." The blond replied.

The sentry laughed and finally disentangled himself from his weapon, "Good luck with that. We've been trying to get to him for days."

"…What do you mean?" Alistair asked.

"After Arl Eamon fell ill-"

"Eam- the Arl is sick?" Alistair interrupted. "When did that happen?"

"Not long after the armies began marching to Ostagar. No one knows what ails him, he lies as if dead, and the Arlessa has all the Knights out searching for a miracle to cure him."

Mjolnir glanced at Alistair, the man was very pale and his mouth was set into a grim line. The Arl might not have always made the right choices, but Alistair still thought of him as a father figure.

"And then… they came." The sentry shuddered.

"Who came?" Leliana asked.

"Evil things… they pour out of the castle each night. They've been killing more and more of us each night, we're almost spent. We can't get into the castle during the day, the drawbridge is always up, and there's no way anyone can climb the steep cliffs of that plateau, that's why they built the castle there after all. We've sent letters seeking aid to Denerim, but they've gone unanswered. We're on our own out here."

"I do not understand. What evil things? Why do they come out of the castle?" Mjolnir inquired.

The villager frowned and didn't look directly at Mjolnir when he answered. "I should… take you to Bann Teagan. He can tell you everything you want to know."

Alistair was broken out of his reverie, "Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon's brother? He's here?"

"Yes. He's in the Chantry down in the village square. Follow me."

* * *

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

Redcliffe's Chantry was packed with people: women, children, the elderly, and the injured. The air reeked of blood, sweat, and other more unpleasant bodily fluids. Morrigan made no attempt to hide her disgust as she followed along behind Mjolnir. She hoped the elf wouldn't waste much time within these walls.

There seemed to be an argument going on at the rear of the Chantry. Loud voices raised above the din of the crowd.

"This is ridiculous!" A man's voice said. "I will not stay in the Chantry while people fight for their lives!"

A lower voice, also belonging to a man, responded, "With all due respect, you're the only leader we have right now. It is vital that you stay alive as long as possible. Plus, the people in the Chantry will need you to protect them should the creatures break through…"

The sentry that was leading Mjolnir's group hovered uncertainly, unwilling to interrupt. Alistair's stomach lurched when he recognized one of the men standing on the raised dais at the back of the Chantry, it was Bann Teagan. The man had changed a lot since Alistair had last seen him, though that was unsurprising.

"Very well, Murdock." Bann Teagan sighed. "I will stay in the Chantry."

"It's for the best." Murdock, a man with the most impressive facial hair Mjolnir had ever seen, replied. "I'm going to rally the boys together, pull their sorry asses out of Lloyd's tavern. I'll report in soon."

Teagan nodded and Murdock left, nodding at the watchman and giving Mjolnir a curious glance as he went by.

"Ah, Tomas." Teagan smiled when he spotted the sentry. "You have guests with you, I see?"

"Yes, my lord." Tomas replied. "They claimed they've come to see Arl Eamon so I thought I would bring them to you."

"Well done, Tomas." The man said. "You may return to your post."

Tomas nodded and walked off, looking very much relieved to be rid of his burden.

"Greetings, travelers. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainsfere, brother to the Arl."

"I remember you, Bann Teagan, though the last time we met I was a lot younger… and probably covered in mud." Alistair replied.

"Covered in…" Teagan looked confused and for one moment Alistair was afraid the man didn't remember him at all. Then, recognition shone in the older man's eyes. "Alistair…? Is… it is you, isn't it? You're alive! This is wonderful news!"

"Still alive, yes, though not for long if Teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it." The man replied sourly.

"Indeed, Loghain would have us all believe the Grey Wardens all died with the King, amongst other things."

"No, not all of us died. There are still two of us left." Alistair said, bringing Mjolnir to the forefront. "This is my friend and fellow Grey Warden, Mjolnir Mahariel."

"An elf?" Teagan blinked in surprise. "I… I am sorry." His cheeks flushed. "I have just never seen a Dalish before and to find one among the Grey Wardens is a rarity in itself…"

Mjolnir could understand the man's surprise and Teagan had not used the word "elf" as if it were an insult so the Dalish nodded politely in response.

"Mjolnir doesn't talk much." Alistair explained, smiling.

Still looking a little embarrassed, Teagan extended his hand to Mjolnir. The elf clasped the man's hand without hesitation and shook it. The tension in the noble's body eased immediately.

"What's going on in Redcliffe, Teagan?" Alistair asked once Mjolnir had stepped back again. "The sentry said something about… things coming out of the castle? And the Arl… he's sick?"

"He is." Teagan replied gravely. "Eamon fell into some kind of coma not long after troops began marching to Ostagar. Nothing could revive him: poultices, potions, magic, herbs, we tried everything we could think of. Lady Isolde has sent all the Knights on a quest for a miracle, but I fear they will all return empty-handed."

Alistair swallowed thickly, "And… the castle?"

"It started a few days ago; the castle was just… deserted. At least, it looked deserted. The drawbridge was up, no guards patrolled the walls, and no sounds could be heard coming from the palace."

"And… there is no way to get in?" Leliana asked.

"Well… no… there is a way. There is a secret passageway concealed in the mill just outside the village, it goes under the lake and into the castle's dungeon, my signet ring opens the way."

"Tomas said there was no way to get into the castle." Alistair replied. "Why didn't you tell anyone about this passage?"

"Because then it wouldn't be a _secret_ passage." Morrigan said dryly.

Teagan gracefully ignored Morrigan's rudeness. "I did tell Murdock, he and I were gathering some men to use the tunnel, but… night fell."

"And 'those things' came?" Leliana whispered.

Teagan nodded, "Yes."

"What… are these things?" Alistair asked.

The man's mouth tightened, his expression became faraway and troubled. "Corpses. The corpses of the servants and soldiers of Redcliffe castle."

Leliana gasped and Alistair's cheeks paled. Mjolnir crossed his arms, frowning thoughtfully.

"They swarmed out of the castle and flooded the village. We were taken by surprise… so many died in the assault. Those that fell were taken away by the creatures, back to the castle. The next morning the drawbridge was up again. We thought of using the passageway, but we lost so many, even sending a small band to the castle would hinder us if they didn't return before nightfall and those monsters came back. So we sent no one that day, we waited until nightfall to see if the creatures would return... they did, the villagers who had been killed the night before were now among their numbers. I don't think we can survive another night."

"How sad. Well, there are no allies here. Shall we move on?" Morrigan asked.

Leliana and Alistair stared at her, utter disbelief etched on both of their faces. Mjolnir didn't face her, but she didn't need to see his face to know he wasn't impressed either. Only Sten seemed to agree with her.

"There are no darkspawn here and nothing to gain." The qunari said. "This is a fool's errand."

"If there is a chance to rescue Arl Eamon, we have to take it!" Alistair exclaimed. "Thanks to Loghain, the Arl might be the only ally we have!"

Sten folded his arms and nodded slightly. "That is true…"

Morrigan sighed. "I tell you, this is a waste of time."

"Your objections are noted and disregarded." Alistair snapped.

The witch snorted and strutted off, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake.

Teagan looked uncertain. "So… you'll help us?"

Mjolnir nodded. "Yes."

"Excellent! You have my sincere gratitude. You have no idea how much your help means to us."

"Where do we start?" Alistair asked.

"The creatures only come from the castle?" The Dalish inquired.

Teagan shook his head. "No. They also come in from the water somehow…"

Leliana shivered, "How unnerving."

"The town is pinned between the hills and the water?" Mjolnir asked.

"Yes." The noble replied. "You have a plan?"

"Barricades." The elf said, "Placed at the water's edge and lit aflame, another blocking the path leading up to the castle. This will prevent the corpses from swarming in all at once."

"Brilliant." Alistair murmured, "But a lot of work to do before sundown, we've only got six hours, give or take."

Mjolnir nodded. "We will need every available person to help."

"Speak with the mayor, Murdock, you saw him earlier, yes?" Teagan said. "He'll get everyone ready. I will join you soon."

The Dalish nodded again. Alistair could see that a million different ideas were already going through Mjolnir's head; this is why the elf made a better leader than him.

"Sandal and I aren't much for fighting." Bodahn said. "But we do have some poultices on the wagon. I think we'll stay in the Chantry and help with the injured."

"Good idea." The elf replied.

As the group headed for the exit more angry voices rang out, though these were much younger. It appeared another argument had erupted. When Mjolnir came through the crowd he saw a young girl clinging to the arm of an even younger boy while he determinedly tried to walk out the door.

"Bevin, you can't!" The girl cried.

"Those things took mother! I'm going to kill them all!" The boy replied, twisting in her grip, trying to get away.

"You'll just get killed! Don't be stupid!"

"I don't care if I'm killed! I'm going to get grandfather's sword and cut those bastards down!"

The boy, Bevin, finally managed to wiggle out of the girl's grip and made a break for the exit. Mjolnir swiftly marched forward, reached out, and grasped onto the lad's shoulder.

"Quit trying to stop me, Kaitlyn!" Bevin said furiously, "I'm not a ba-" He turned and froze, gawking up at Mjolnir, "-by."

The girl gawked at Mjolnir as well, frozen in place like a scared rabbit.

"You are too young to fight, da'len." Mjolnir said, "You are also foolish. Throwing one's life away is not bravery."

"…They took my mother." The boy said, fighting visibly to keep the tremble out of his voice.

"Do you think she would want this for you? This reckless plunge into death?" Mjolnir asked. "Or do you think she would want you here, protecting your sister?"

"I…" Bevin looked down at his feet. "Mother would want me here, but I can't protect Kaitlyn. I can't even lift our grandfather's sword, it's too heavy."

The Dalish unsheathed his dagger and flipped the pommel toward the boy. Bevin looked up at Mjolnir with astonishment. The elf nodded and the lad carefully took the blade from him.

"Use it in bravery, not in foolishness." Mjolnir warned. "For protection and not revenge."

"Yes, ser." Bevin replied, cradling the dagger reverently.

"Thank-you, ser." Kaitlyn added.

"...That was the dagger your Keeper gave you, wasn't it?" Alistair asked as the group exited the Chantry.

"The boy needed it more than I." Mjolnir replied simply.

* * *

The sun blazed a bright white overhead, beating relentlessly down upon Redcliffe as the villagers worked to protect their town. Mjolnir, sweating profusely and stripped to the waist, was helping some of the men chop up tree trunks to make into the barricades he had imagined. It took five good-sized tree trunks lashed together in just the right configuration; this made a unique cylindrical barricade that was difficult to climb over even went it wasn't on fire. Sten and Leliana were close by, busy helping more townsfolk dig trenches to set the barricades into; they didn't want the barriers to be rolled into the nearby houses. Alistair and Teagan were way up on the hill, helping yet more villagers set up a blockade on the path that led to Redcliffe castle. Even Yggdrasil was helping out; he wandered up and down the line of workers with a bulging waterskin tied around his neck. Whenever someone wanted a drink all they had to do was hail the dog and he'd bring it right over.

Morrigan sat in the shade of a large pine tree, legs stretched out in front of her with her ankles crossed primly, watching Mjolnir hack away at yet another tree trunk. The elf's back and chest was a map of scars, mostly bites and claw marks from animals, but there were a few scars left by weapons here and there: a slash down his ribs from a dagger, a healed puncture from a sword on his abdomen, and a few puckers of scar tissue on his bicep and good shoulder from arrows. A sash was tied firmly around the elf's other shoulder to hide his blighted wound, an injury given to him by a tainted bear of all things. Flemeth had given her the history of each of Mjolnir's scars, among other things, as she healed the fatal wounds left by the darkspawn.

The witch smirked when her gaze fell upon two other women who were also watching Mjolnir. Morrigan was uncertain what the men of Redcliffe resented the most: taking orders from an elf or having some of their women ogling that elf. At least it wouldn't escalate, Mjolnir treated those women the same way he treated any woman who showed sexual interest in him: with polite detachment.

"You could help, you know."

Morrigan tilted her head up to see Leliana standing over her, there was dirt smudged on the redhead's nose.

"Yes, I could." Morrigan replied. "But I won't."

"I…you…" Leliana spluttered.

The brunette raised her eyebrows, feigning politeness inquisitiveness. "Yes?"

"Never mind." Leliana huffed, storming back over to the trench.

Morrigan's soft laughter tapered off as a familiar feeling stole over her, the elf was watching her. She looked over at Mjolnir and met those dark feral eyes of his head-on. The Dalish excused himself for a moment and walked over, hunkering beside her. Even drenched in sweat the elf still smelled like earth and sandalwood.

"Are you going to force me to help?" She asked with a seductive smile.

"No."

Morrigan was not surprised by this answer.

"I will tell you that if you do not help today, you will fight tonight and if you refuse to do even that then you will leave."

The witch quirked one eyebrow, now she was surprised, it seemed Mjolnir would forever be unpredictable.

"What of your debt to my mother?" She asked haughtily.

The Dalish's eyes flashed, "Our debt was paid when we took you with us. Your mother did not stipulate that we had to keep you with us." He leaned in, his face just scant inches away from hers, "But I think you will fight, because I think you have to stay… do you not?"

The elf's words sent an eerie chill down Morrigan's spine, her skin crawled, how did he…?

She forced a laugh, acting as if Mjolnir's words meant nothing to her. "With the dramatics you are capable of 'tis no wonder the women swoon at your feet, elf."

Mjolnir wasn't fooled. "I will see you tonight, witch."

And then he was gone, back to chopping up another tree trunk. Morrigan released a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.

* * *

The barricades were finished and ready to be set alight. Those who could not fight had been taken into the Chantry by Teagan. Everyone else was at their posts, ready to fend off another attack. The sun was just starting to set; the sky an ominous bloody red.

High up on the hill Mjolnir, Alistair, Sten, Leliana, Morrigan, Yggdrasil, and a small group of villagers waited. Mjolnir sat cross-legged on the ground by the windmill, leisurely carving a piece of yew. He had patiently shaped the wood over the course of the week, planning to eventually make it into a longbow, and was now carving in needed notches and unneeded details. He had no idea what he was going to use for bowstring, it took too long to make it from scratch. He supposed he would have to buy it from a human vendor and reinforce it.

"I can't believe Morrigan is going to fight." Alistair said, sitting beside Mjolnir.

"She and I had a discussion about that." Mjolnir replied, finishing carving one delicate horn for the Halla on the side of his new weapon.

"I bet that went over well." The man chuckled.

Mjolnir didn't reply and Alistair chuckled again, he could just imagine what Mjolnir and Morrigan's "discussion" had sounded like. A small smile tugged at the elf's lips and he set the unfinished bow within his quiver of arrows, hoping it wouldn't be broken in the upcoming battle.

"Making a new longbow?" Alistair asked, admiring the weapon.

The Dalish nodded, "My clanmate's bow is a fine weapon, but I would like my own."

The sky overhead had faded from red to the dark purplish blue color of a bruise. The Guiding Star, always the first to shine, glittered to the north. Yggdrasil's ears flattened against his skull and Mjolnir and Alistair took that as a cue to get to their feet. A loud clanking echoed in the growing darkness and everyone turned to see that the drawbridge was slowly beginning to lower.

"They're coming…" A villager whimpered, clutching her dagger with both hands.

"It's all right." Alistair reassured her with a smile. "The plan will work. They won't be able to swarm this time. We will win."

The villager managed a shaky smile then nearly jumped right out of her skin as Yggdrasil began to growl. Mjolnir watched the castle, Leliana at his side. The drawbridge finally lowered completely with a resonating thump. Leliana's fingers tightened around her bow, her full lips set in a grim line. At first there was nothing, they waited tensely, and then a strange green mist began to pour from the castle's gateway. A wail and a low moan, a chorus of many damned voices sounded one right after the other, carried to them on the wind.

"Maker watch over us!" Someone shouted.

There were murmurs of assent. Mjolnir quietly asked for the Creators' blessing and readied his bow. He would light the barrier when the time came.

"There!" Leliana exclaimed, pointing at the drawbridge.

Within the green mist, Mjolnir could see shadowy shapes moving.

"Ready yourselves! Here they come!" Alistiar shouted.

Down below in the village the barricades went up in flames and the sounds of battle echoed off the hills. The dead had emerged from the lake.

"Alistair." Mjolnir readied his arrow then angled it toward his fellow Grey Warden. Hay soaked in lamp oil was tied to the end of the arrow and Alistair pressed a torch to it, setting it aflame.

The first of the corpses emerged from the mist, a servant woman with a horrific gaping chest wound. Mjolnir aimed for the barricade and let the arrow fly, it struck the barrier dead center and the logs ignited. The creature let out a moan of agony and stumbled backward away from the flames. Another corpse emerged from the mist, a soldier with blood encrusted armor. This one was much faster and it ran swiftly down the hill toward the barricade, brandishing an ax above its head. Leliana felled the corpse with an arrow to the neck and the creature rolled down the remainder of the hill, smashing against the barricade. The eye-watering stink of burning flesh hung in the air as the monster caught fire.

More corpses began shuffling or running down the hill, servants, villagers, and soldiers adorned with gruesome injuries and blood. They swarmed down toward the barricade, many of them falling as Mjolnir, Leliana, and the villagers peppered them with arrows. Morrigan blew other corpses apart with fireballs or bolts of lightning.

The first creature that managed to get by the barrier was a soldier with its entire lower jaw missing. The corpse's arm caught fire as it squeezed past the barricade, but it took no notice, running at the group with a gurgling hiss sounding in its throat.

"Move back!" Mjolnir ordered the villagers.

The townsfolk moved backward quickly. The fire had spread up the corpse's arm and engulfed its shoulders and head. Leliana thought she might be sick as the creature's wagging tongue began to sizzle and cook. Yggdrasil ran up and clamped his jaws onto the thing's leg, pulling it to the ground. The corpse had a club of some kind in its hand and it battered the hound about the head the shoulders with it. Mjolnir was about to plant an arrow between its eyes when Sten ran up and sliced the creature's head off with one swipe of his sword. Yggdrasil barked at the qunari and wagged his tail.

"You are welcome." Sten replied.

More corpses fell to flame and arrows, any that made it passed the barrier were quickly killed by those with melee weapons. Bodies that fell against the barrier burned, the smell of cooking flesh was almost cloying. Fighting off nausea, Mjolnir shot another corpse, killing it with an arrow between the eyes. They just kept coming and coming. Dawn was just a few hours away, but it felt like it had been days already.

"Oh Maker…" A villager moaned. "That smell… I think… I think I'm going to-"

The man's eyes rolled up in his head and fainted dead away, Leliana hurried forward to drag him to safety. Mjolnir took a quick tally of his group. Alistair was white as milk, but still on his feet. Morrigan was slightly singed, but still fighting. Sten was stoic as ever, cutting down a few corpses that had managed to clamber over the barricade using their fallen brethren. Yggdrasil ran back and forth in front of the blockade, barking and snarling at any corpses who came too close. Fifteen villagers were green around the edges but still fighting. The only person down was the man who had fainted. The barrier was working admirably so far. The corpses' one advantage was their overwhelming numbers, without the ability to swarm the danger level had been reduced considerably.

The barricade had just begun to split and fall apart when the first sliver of the rising sun peeked over the horizon. No more creatures emerged from the haze and the mist itself began to dissipate. As the sun continued rising a metallic clanking signaled the closing of the drawbridge.

Mjolnir was exhausted. His bad arm trembled constantly and he stiffly lowered his bow. The Dalish saw his weariness reflected in the faces of his teammates, even Sten seemed fatigued. Cheers floated up from the village below, they had survived another night. Alistair exchanged a tired smile with Mjolnir as that joyful sound washed over them. The villagers clapped each other on the back and headed back down the hill into Redcliffe, leaving Mjolnir and his group alone on the hilltop.

"Now what do we do?" Leliana asked.

Before anyone could answer her Teagan came jogging up the hill with a smile on his face.

"Not one casualty." He reported as he approached Mjolnir and the others. "A few minor wounds and a bit of singeing, but not one fatality. Those barricades were a stroke of genius, we owe you our lives."

"You owe nothing." The elf replied. "I could not just sit by while monsters attacked the helpless."

"Not many would do the same as you, my friend." Teagan replied, but he argued no further.

"So what are our plans now?" Leliana repeated her earlier question.

"Go to bed?" Morrigan suggested dryly.

"No." Mjolnir replied. "There is no time. We do not know how long it will take us to search the castle. We should leave now."

"We can take some of the men with us." Teagan offered. "There are a few experienced fighters in Redcliffe. Dwyn-"

The elf shook his head, "If we do not return Redcliffe will need all its fighters."

"What do you mean 'us'?" Alistair asked warily.

"I'm going with you, into the castle." Teagan replied.

Mjolnir shook his head again, "That is not a good idea."

"Eamon is my brother." The Bann replied. "If our positions were reversed he would help me. I have to… I have to see if he still lives, I have to stop this evil before Redcliffe is destroyed." Seeing Mjolnir wasn't yet convinced, he plowed on. "I'm an experienced fighter, I won't slow you down."

The Dalish folded his arms, thinking over Teagan's plea.

"Having an extra sword arm wouldn't hurt…" Leliana suggested tentatively.

"That's true, but what about Redcliffe?" Alistair added.

"You may join us, but on one condition." Mjolnir said. "If I tell you to go back, you will. You will abandon us and return to Redcliffe and ready for another battle. Do you understand?"

Teagan nodded reluctantly. "…Very well. I agree to your terms."

"Then let us be off." Mjolnir replied.

* * *

**TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

The long tunnel that connected the old mill to Redcliffe castle was dark, cramped, and cold. Freezing drops of water pattered on Leliana's head and neck as she followed Mjolnir through the darkness. Morrigan had used some spell that caused her mage's staff to glow, but it provided little light in the almost suffocating gloom. Mjolnir was the only one who could see in the dark so they'd formed a chain of sorts behind him, each hanging onto the person in front of them. Leliana had a hold of the empty dagger's sheath that rested in the small of Mjolnir's back. Sten's heavy hand clasped Leliana's shoulder with surprising gentleness. The woman thought that she had misjudged the qunari, labeling him "rude" and "cold" a bit too soon.

Yggdrasil was the only one who wasn't part of the chain. He walked in front of the group, following the very faint tangle of scents that told him there was an exit upcoming.

"We should be coming up on the hidden door to the dungeons soon." Teagan whispered from somewhere behind Sten. "It may prove difficult to open because of disuse. I don't think Eamon has had to use it once."

The group slowed. Yggdrasil woofed quietly, indicating that he'd come to a dead end. With his keen vision Mjolnir saw the outline of a small square door, more like a hatch really, set into the wall. Yggdrasil brushed against Mjolnir's legs and sniffed enthusiastically at the wall, eager to get out. The Dalish pushed on the hatch and it gave just the tiniest bit. He threw his good shoulder against it and it gave a little bit more, but he didn't have enough weight to break it open.

"Sten, I need your help."

Leliana let go of Mjolnir and moved aside to make room for Sten to pass, she almost had to flatten herself against the wall. Once the qunari was near enough Mjolnir guided Sten's hands onto the doorway. The qunari pushed on it, testing its resistance, then threw his weight against it with barely a grunt. He slammed his shoulder twice against the hatch and it banged open, the sound echoed in the large stone room beyond it. Except for a few moldy crates, the room was empty and just as dark as the passageway, but Mjolnir could see a bit of torchlight peeking out from beneath a door on the other side of the room. They had reached the dungeons of Redcliffe Castle. He lifted Yggdrasil up and helped him through the hatch. The elf climbed through the hole himself then turned to help everyone else through. Leliana squawked and flailed her arms a bit as her foot caught the lip of the trapdoor, but Mjolnir caught her easily and set her on her feet.

"Be wary." Mjolnir warned once everyone was through, "We don't know what is on the other side of that door."

Everyone readied themselves for a fight and Mjolnir flung the door open. The dungeon consisted of one long hallway lined with torches and tiny cells. Three corpses wielding axes turned at the sound of the door opening and upon seeing Mjolnir they flew at him with unearthly hisses. The elf quickly vacated the doorway so no one would be cornered in the storeroom. He dodged a cut aimed for his throat and felled one of the corpses with an arrow through its cloudy eye.

The creatures fought with an unsettling intensity, but they were outnumbered and easily cut down. Bann Teagan hadn't lied about his skills; he'd expertly dodged and parried the corpses' attacks.

The Dalish stared down at the nearest corpse, puzzled. The creature was nude but sexless, its grey skin pulled taut over its bones. This was not a servant, soldier, or villager. He looked over the other two corpses and saw they were the same as the first.

"The veil is torn here." Morrigan said, stepping up beside him. "When the veil is torn a demon can pull souls from the Fade. When a soul is forced into the mortal world and there is no body for it to inhabit they become these thralls, 'tis why they all look the same."

"Demon? Did you say demon?" Teagan asked.

"Yes." The witch replied. "There is a demon in this castle, I can feel it."

Teagan's cheeks turned an ashen white, "But… how? I thought perhaps blood magic, but… a demon? How did it get here, into our world?"

Morrigan shrugged, at the end of her helpful friendliness, "There are many ways for a demon to enter this world. I do not know which one brought this demon."

"Hello?" A voice called meekly. "Who's there?"

The group exchanged a look then Mjolnir and Alistair crept forward along the row. They came upon a man in a cell, judging by his blood-stained robes he was a mage. Bruises and cuts marked every visible inch of the man's skin and one of his eyes had swollen shut; he'd been beaten quite severely.

"Who are you?" The mage asked.

"We could ask you the same." Alistair replied. "What's going on here? Why are you here?"

The man sighed and hung his head, "My name is Jowan, a mage hired by Lady Isolde to tutor her son."

"But-" Alistair looked confused.

Jowan moved away from the bars, as if wishing to melt into the shadows behind him, "Perhaps I… should start at the beginning."

"That would be wise." Teagan said, walking up behind Mjolnir and Alistair.

"…I tried to escape the Circle to be with the woman I loved. We were caught..." Jowan's lips pursed and his expression became pained, "I had asked a friend to help… she… she was killed, but I… used blood magic to escape."

"A blood mage." Alistair gaped, instinctively moving away from the cell.

"You? A blood mage? Truly?" Morrigan scoffed over Mjolnir's shoulder. "Will the wonders never cease?"

Jowan continued, "Even though I'd managed to destroy my phylactery the templars caught up with me and brought me to Denerim. I would have been executed; I was awaiting 'trial' when… he came, Teyrn Loghain."

Alistair frowned, already forming a picture of why Loghain would recruit a blood mage.

Mjolnir said, "How did you know it was him?"

"I'd seen pictures before; he is the Hero of Riverdane after all." The mage replied.

"What did he ask of you?" Teagan inquired, he was frowning too.

Jowan looked down at his shuffling feet, "He said… he said that Arl Eamon was a traitor-"

"What!" Alistair and Teagan burst out in unison.

"Let him finish." Mjolnir said.

"-He said that Lady Isolde was secretly looking for an apostate to tutor her son. I was to procure this job and… poison the Arl."

"You!" Teagan shouted, slamming his hands against the bars, "You're the reason Eamon fell ill!"

Still staring at his feet, Jowan nodded, "I'm not proud of what I did, but the Teyrn… he said that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden. I believed him, but now… now I see that he was just using me."

"Of course he was using you!" Alistair exclaimed.

"Why did the Lady Isolde need a mage to tutor her son?" Mjolnir asked, ignoring Alistair's outburst.

The man finally looked up at them, "Connor had started to… show signs. Lady Isolde was terrified; she didn't even tell her husband. She was afraid that the Arl would turn Connor over to the Circle."

The anger on both Teagan and Alistair's faces melted into shock.

"Connor… a mage…?" Alistair asked hollowly.

"Yes, that is what he directly implied." Morrigan said snappishly.

"What of the corpses? And the tear in the Veil?" Mjolnir prompted, wanting to get as much information from the mage as possible before the man decided he'd said too much.

Jowan held his hands up in supplication, "I know what it looks like, but it wasn't me!"

"There's another blood mage in the castle somewhere?" Alistair asked incredulously.

"No, but there is another mage," Leliana replied before Jowan could speak, "Perhaps Connor, in his inexperience, accidentally tore the Veil."

"That was my thought as well…" Jowan mumbled.

Alistair's jaw went slack with surprise, but Teagan was nodding.

"That would make sense…" He said.

"So what are we to do?" Leliana wanted to know.

"The demon must be defeated." Morrigan replied. "It is the only way to repair the Veil."

"Great." Alistair sighed.

"…What are you going to do with me?" Jowan asked in a tiny voice.

"I say kill the mage." Sten said, speaking for the first time.

Jowan whimpered, but didn't protest against this statement. Mjolnir considered the man before him. He didn't care a lick that the man was a blood mage. That meant nothing to him. What he cared about was whether or not this man had been motivated by malevolence. And… he thought not. Jowan had been foolish and gullible, but nothing more.

"He will stay here for now." Mjolnir said.

Jowan nodded, looking both relieved and uncertain.

"Can you tell us anything else?" Alistair asked.

"No, I'm afraid not." Jowan replied. "Just… be careful."

The upper floors of Redcliffe castle were unnaturally silent; the stench of blood and rotten flesh permeated the air. Yggdrasil laid his ears flat against his skull; the air was tainted with the dark murky grey scent of Death. The group moved cautiously, but quickly, they wanted to reach the Arl and find the demon as quickly as possible.

Mjolnir scouted ahead with Yggdrasil sneaking along beside him. For a big dog, he could certainly move quietly. The halls were empty, but the Dalish did not trust this peace. The air was charged with anticipation.

The elf glanced at Yggdrasil, the hound knew what his master wanted without being asked and he forged ahead with his nose in the air.

"Wait." Mjolnir said quietly, throwing out his arm to stop Teagan when the man went to pass him.

The Mabari sniffed his way down the hall; the smell of decay was a sickly green haze that hung in the air. He stopped short of two doors opposite each other near the end of the hall and looked over his shoulder at Mjolnir.

"Ambush ahead." Mjolnir whispered. "They planned to blitz us from both sides. Had we marched on ahead, we would have been taken by surprise."

"What do we do then?" Teagan asked.

"We go forward, but now the element of surprise isn't theirs, it is ours. Come."

Mjolnir held a finger to his lips, signaling quiet, and the group crept silently down the hall.

"These are the servant's quarters." Alistair whispered. "Those rooms couldn't hold more than four creatures."

Mjolnir motioned for them to fan out, Teagan, Alistair, and Yggdrasil on one side and Morrigan, Sten, and Leliana on the other. At the elf's signal Sten and Alistair threw their respective doors open. Mjolnir had been right. The corpses had been waiting near the doors, ready to ambush any who walked by. Now the creatures were flung back by the force of the door slamming into them and they were quickly cut down. There had been three creatures waiting on Alistair's side of the hall, four on Sten's.

"Like Alistair, these thralls are not intelligent." Morrigan said. "They did not come up with this plan on their own. The demon is leading them, it knows we are in the castle and set this trap for us."

Alistair smiled sardonically at Morrigan. Mjolnir nodded resignedly at the latter half of Morrigan's statement, he hadn't expected to be able to sneak up on a demon, but he had been hoping…

"What else can this demon throw at us?" Leliana asked.

The witch shrugged, "It depends on how powerful it is. It may summon lesser demons, more thralls, force the living to do its bidding, there are many things it can do."

"Let us continue on." Mjolnir said.

They worked their way systematically, carefully, through the seemingly endless corridors, killing any creatures they came upon. Alistair's spirits sank the further they went. They hadn't found one single survivor so far. It was looking less and less likely that anyone, including the Arl, was still alive.

Finally the group came to a brightly lit kitchen, the only clue to things amiss here was the abandoned vegetables, half chopped, already starting to rot.

"From here we can go down the stair to the wine cellar." Teagan said. "From the wine cellar we can reach the courtyard then hopefully we can get into the castle's main wing from there."

Leliana had hoped that the air outside would smell cold and sweet after the stale, rotten air of the castle. Alas, the air outside was indeed cold, but the stain of putrid flesh lingered. The woman wondered if any of them would be able to rid themselves of that scent, it felt like it was clinging to her hair and skin like a fine film. She had seen and smelled death before, many times before, but never so much at one time and never on this large a scale.

Yggdrasil lifted his leg and urinated on a tree nearby. Mjolnir proceeded cautiously into the center of the courtyard. Here, the signs of the slaughter that went on were much more noticeable. Puddles of dried blood dotted the ground. The closed drawbridge blocked the front gates and it too was covered in blood… and scored with scratch marks, in their panic people had tried to claw their way out. There was not a single body in sight; the demon had recalled them all from death.

"Maker have mercy…" Teagan murmured.

A curious high whirring pierced the quiet and Alistair took one quick look around before shoving Teagan out of the way. Two arrows pelted into the dirt right where the Bann had been standing. More thralls, armed with longbows, stood on the battlements. Their aim was clumsy, but it only took one lucky shot to disable or kill someone.

The group split up and dove behind cover, Mjolnir and Alistair leapt behind a dilapidated oxcart. Yggdrasil, still by the tree, was caught out in the open. An arrow pierced the hound's flank and he ran to Mjolnir, yelping piteously. Arrows peppered the oxcart. On the other side of the courtyard Morrigan hurled fireballs up onto the battlements from her hiding spot behind a tree.

Blood oozed from Yggdrasil's flank and his entire body trembled when he tried to put weight on it.

"Let me see." Mjolnir murmured, ignoring the hail of arrows that clattered against the cart.

Holding the Mabari gently around the neck, he examined Yggdrasil's wound. They had used barbed arrows, pulling it out would be difficult and painful.

"Do you have a poultice?" He asked his comrade.

Alistair nodded and handed a small vial to the elf. The warrior risked a glance around the cart. Leliana had joined Morrigan in shooting thralls, they'd killed five, but at least ten or eleven remained. Teagan and Sten were trying to creep closer to the castle, but were forced to retreat when the thralls turned their fire on them.

"Abelas, my friend. This will hurt." Mjolnir said.

Yggdrasil pressed his head against the Dalish's side, whining but ready for the impending pain. Mjolnir held the hound still and gripped onto the arrow firmly. He gave a hard tug and Yggdrasil yelped loudly in pain. Alistair winced and gently stroked the dog's muzzle.

"One more." The elf reassured Yggdrasil.

He pulled again and the arrow came free in a burst of flesh and blood. The Mabari yowled again, but he was relieved that the arrow was out.

"I see an opening. I'm going for it." Alistair said.

Mjolnir nodded and the man patted Yggdrasil again before running off. The elf carefully applied the poultice to Yggdrasil's leg. The tension in the hound's body began to ease as the cool, soothing sensation of the poultice healed his wound.

"You will have a bald spot for a while." Mjolnir said, running his fingers over the smooth, newly-healed skin, "But your fur will grow back."

Yggdrasil barked and jumped in Mjolnir's lap, licking the elf's face enthusiastically.

"Yggdrasil!" The Dalish laughed. "You are welcome, but you must get down!"

The hound leapt out of Mjolnir's lap and the elf was able to stand. He peeked around the cart, five thralls remained. He readied an arrow and moved into the open. Mjolnir aimed quickly and released the arrow. He just had enough time to see it puncture the skull of one of the creatures before a cloud of arrows flew at him. One of the projectiles thunked into his breastplate, but it didn't hit flesh, and then he was behind the safety of the cart again. He yanked the arrow out of his armor and tossed it aside.

"Yggdrasil?"

The hound was gone. A terrible squealing rent the air. Mjolnir's heart skipped several beats,

"Yggdrasil!"

Mjolnir ran out from behind the cart and his dread turned into relief, Yggdrasil was not the one squealing. The hound had one of the thralls by the throat and he was dragging it down the stairs that led to the battlements. The monster thrashed in Yggdrasil's jaws, squalling loudly. Its fellows did nothing to help; their attentions were focused on keeping Alistair, Teagan, and Sten away from the stairs.

Mjolnir shot one more thrall. The arrow struck it in the chest, but it didn't fall and he dove behind a cluster of barrels before the return fire could hit him. Yggdrasil's fangs crunched down on the throat of the creature he held and its struggles and screeching ceased. The hound darted behind the barrels with Mjolnir. Yggdrasil looked quite proud of himself and the elf smiled, scratching the animal behind the ears.

Morrigan waited until the last three creatures had clustered together before launching one more fireball. The thralls exploded in an eruption of limbs and fire. Silence settled over the courtyard. Mjolnir signaled for everyone to stay where they were and he cautiously ventured out into the open. He glanced up at the high towers' windows, but saw nothing. Bow ready, he moved swiftly up the stairs onto the ramparts. They were empty; all the thralls in the courtyard had been killed.

"It is clear." He called.

The rest of the group emerged from behind cover. Leliana had a cut on her arm where an arrow had grazed her and Sten had several arrows stuck in his armor, but no one was hurt.

"Poor thing…" Leliana cooed, lightly patting the bald spot on Yggdrasil's flank.

The hound woofed softly, reassuring her that he was all right. Sten pulled the arrows from his armor and dropped them on the ground.

Teagan looked very pale, "It… it's just going to get worse, isn't it?"

"Yes." Mjolnir replied.

"You can go back if you want." Alistair offered.

The man shook his head, "No, I… I'll keep going." He stared up at the large wooden doors that that to the castle's main wing and the throne room beyond. "I have to know if Eamon is…"

Mjolnir regarded the position of the sun; he estimated it was early afternoon. They had time. He looked at Alistair and nodded.

"All right." Alistair said. "Let's… let's go."

The elf had everyone move to the side and Alistair and Sten pulled the castle doors open. No corpses could be seen, the door to the throne room was open, but the only thing Mjolnir could see was blood stains on the wall and floor. Teagan moaned softly, painfully, at the sight of those stains.

"Do not do anything foolish." Mjolnir warned.

The Bann nodded, his lips pursed together.

The hair on the back of Mjolnir's neck stood on end as a deep, yet strangely soft voice spoke unseen from within the throne room. "Come…in…"

"What do we do?" Leliana squeaked.

"I don't- Teagan!" Alistair hissed.

The man had started walking away. Mjolnir made a grab for his arm, but missed.

"Bann Teagan! Come back…!" Leliana cried.

The elf's eyes narrowed at the clumsy way Teagan walked and he realized that the man was not moving under his own power, the demon had enchanted him. The man stumbled through the doorway and then was gone, vanished around the corner.

"Damn it." Alistair cussed. "We have to go after him."

Mjolnir nodded and the group readied their weapons, following Teagan's path, entering the throne room. The room had a low ceiling and was lined with chairs where lesser nobles would sit when visiting the Arl. At the back of the room were two simple wooden thrones on a raised dais. Teagan stood on the dais, his face blank, a boy with ginger hair stood beside him. Mjolnir fought the urge to recoil at the sight of the boy. The child's skin was so white that every vein was visible. His eyes were sunken and bruised; a white film covered his pupils.

"Welcome." He grinned.

"Connor…" Alistair groaned. "By the Maker…"

"So… you are the ones who ruined my fun and saved that blighted village…" Connor murmured.

A woman swayed into view. She had the same ginger hair as the boy and the same blank look as Teagan.

"Lady Isolde…" Alistair murmured.

The boy looked at his mother and she blinked rapidly, frowning as if she had no idea here she was. Mjolnir realized that the demon had released her from its hold, at least temporarily.

"Oh… Teagan…" She murmured as her eyes fell upon the man. "No… why did you come? Now there is no one to save us…"

"You don't need to be saved!" Connor screamed, suddenly angry.

"Connor…" Mjolnir murmured, moving slowly forward.

"Not a step further, elf!"

The Dalish stopped. He felt Yggdrasil beside him and willed the hound to stay put.

"Alistair?" Isolde blinked unbelievingly at the group, like she couldn't trust her own eyes. "Is that… how… why… how did you get in?"

"Teagan showed us the way. We're here to help, Lady Isolde."

"I said we don't need help!" The boy yelled, stamping his feet. "Father lives because of me!"

"It appears the boy made a deal with the demon to keep his father alive." Morrigan sighed. "Foolish child."

"It was a fair deal!" Connor exclaimed, the inflections and pitch of his voice changed with every word.

Morrigan opened her mouth to retort, but closed it when Mjolnir shot her a piercing look.

"Connor, the demon tricked you. You need our help." Mjolnir said softly.

"Connor is fine." The boy replied, his voice dropping more than several octaves.

"I am not talking to you, demon." The elf said coldly. "Connor, listen to me, you must let us help you."

"I am Connor!"

The boy used some kind of spell and an invisible wave of force hit Mjolnir, knocking him backward. Yggdrasil barked and snarled at Connor, but didn't move any closer.

"Are you all right?" Leliana asked, helping Mjolnir to his feet.

"Yes."

"Connor." Alistair was trying his luck now. He stepped up beside Yggdrasil. "Mjolnir is right."

Isolde whimpered, "Oh please, don't make it angry…"

"We must kill the boy. The demon will die with him." Sten said.

"No!" Isolde screamed, instinctively throwing her arms around her son.

"Get off me, woman!"

Another invisible wave struck Isolde and she flew backwards, landing on her backside a few meters away.

"We're not killing him." Alistair said firmly.

As Mjolnir watched, Connor sagged visibly. It appeared that Connor was not a strong enough mage to support the demon's magic for long, which was why it had just enthralled Teagan and not them all. Perhaps if they forced the boy's body to the point of collapse it would give them time to speak with Isolde, to formulate a plan.

"We must wear him out." Mjolnir whispered to Alistair. "We will feint an attack."

Alistair nodded and relayed the elf's plan to the others.

"Now!" Mjolnir shouted, running forward.

Growling, Yggdrasil charged at the boy.

"Softly, Yggdrasil!" The Dalish ordered.

The Mabari leapt at Connor, but missed deliberately and he sailed passed the boy. Leliana shot an arrow that sailed high over the child's head. Connor roared with rage and Isolde screamed again, she tried to shield her son.

"Alistair, get her out of the way!" Mjolnir shouted.

Alistair grabbed Isolde by the upper arms and pulled her to the side. She struggled and cried, beating her fists against the man's chest. Mjolnir shot another arrow that went wide, hitting the wall instead of Connor. The boy returned fire, knocking them all over with a blast of energy. Sten was the first one to his feet and he ran at Connor with his sword raised. He swung, missed by an inch, and was blown backwards by a jolt of lightning. Connor fell to his hands and knees, panting.

"Get up! Get up you worthless boy!" He screamed in his constantly changing voice.

Yggdrasil gently knocked the boy onto his side then zigzagged away as a blast of fire was shot at him.

"You're killing him!" Isolde screeched.

"No! We're saving him!" Alistair shouted, his patience with her constant fist-beats at an end.

The demon howled with fury, but Connor's body could not take anymore. The boy collapsed face down on the floor, fainted dead away.

"Connor!" Isolde wiggled out of Alistair's grip and kneeled beside her son.

With the demon temporarily out of commission, its hold on Teagan was broken. The man blinked, confused, and he looked around blearily.

"What... what happened? Where am I?" He spotted Isolde crying over Connor, "No…!"

"It's all right, Teagan." Alistair assured the man. "He is just unconscious."

"Thank the Maker." Teagan said.

"Thank the Maker!" Isolde asked incredulously, rising to her feet. "They attacked my son!"

"Your son, who is possessed by a dangerous demon." Leliana said. "We are here to help. We could not help if the demon was awake and in control."

"Isolde, please calm down." Teagan said soothingly.

The woman laughed hysterically, "Calm down? Calm down! My husband lies as if dead, my son has been possessed, and the demon forced everyone to kill each other! They attacked the village my husband and I are responsible for. People I have known for years, dead, but alive! Wandering the castle!" Another manic laugh burst from her lips.

"Isolde, _please._" He grabbed the woman by the shoulders and shook her. "We don't know how much time we have. We must come up with a plan to help Connor before he wakes up again!"

All the hysteria faded from the woman's face, replaced by desolation. "There is no way to help my son…"

"The mage may know something." Mjolnir said. "Jowan."

The woman sneered, "He is the one that started this! He cannot be trusted."

"We should still hear what he has to say." Leliana replied. "We cannot just… kill Connor without exploring other options first."

Teagan looked reluctant, but he nodded. "I'll get Jowan."

They moved Connor moved upstairs to his room where he was now guarded by Leliana and Yggdrasil. Teagan brought Jowan into the throne room, holding the mage tightly by the upper arm.

"If you know of a way to remedy this, now is the time to reveal it." Teagan said.

Jowan looked at no one; he stared down at his own feet. "There is a ritual, but it requires large amounts of lyrium and many mages."

"Both of those things can be found at the Circle." Alistair said eagerly.

"Yes, but the Tower is more than a week's journey away." Teagan replied.

"It is only a few days if you take a boat across the lake." Isolde said.

The Bann nodded, but there was no elation on his face, "The corpses destroyed our boats the first night, set them ablaze. The journey might be shorter on horseback-"

Isolde's face fell, "-but the Knights have taken all the horses…"

"Redcliffe won't survive another night." Teagan folded his arms, looking somber, "Isolde we…"

The woman's expression darkened and she shook her head vehemently, "No. We are not killing my son."

Jowan mumbled something so quietly that no one heard him.

"Say that again?" Teagan requested.

"There is… another way to power the ritual." The man looked up; his face was anxious and terrified. "But it would… require a sacrifice of blood, a total sacrifice."

"You mean… a sacrifice of life?" Alistair gaped.

"…Yes."

"No." The templar frowned and shook his head as resolutely as Lady Isolde, "What good can come of blood magic? How do we know this isn't a trick anyway?"

Isolde wasn't listening to Alistair, "I will do it. Sacrifice me."

"What!" Teagan exclaimed. "Isolde, no!"

"What else is there to do!" The woman asked. "If this will save my son then I will do it!"

Mjolnir stared at Jowan, making the mage squirm. He did not feel like Jowan was tricking them, he believed that the man did sincerely want to help.

"You are certain you're ready to die?" The elf asked Isolde.

"You're not actually considering this madness, are you!" Alistair shouted before the woman could reply.

Mjolnir looked calmly at the man, "What alternative do we have, Alistair?"

"We can go to the Circle!"

"Then the village will not survive." The Dalish replied. "You would have them all die? At least the Lady Isolde is willing to sacrifice her life."

"I… can't believe…" Alistair was so furious that he could barely speak.

"This is not your decision, Alistair." Isolde said coldly. "Connor is my son. I will do anything to save him."

"I…you…" The man spluttered angrily then turned and stormed out of the room.

Mjolnir sighed sadly and turned to Isolde, "I will abide by your decision, but I want you to know that if you sacrifice yourself, your son grows up without his mother."

"Yes… I… I know." Tears shone in the woman's eyes, "Too many have died already. If my death prevents any more, if it saves my son, then… it will be worth it."

"Very well."

"Isolde…" Teagan looked hesitant, but he didn't argue.

"The ritual sends a mage into the Fade. I cannot go because I'm performing the ritual, another mage will need to go." Jowan said quietly.

"Morrigan will go." Mjolnir replied.

"I notice that you do not ask me." Morrigan said dryly.

The elf turned a sharp eye on her, "I did not think I would have to ask you to save a child's life, witch."

Surprisingly, Mjolnir's words stung. There was a moment or two of silence before Morrigan answered.

"Oh, very well." She said, hiding the sting she felt behind a sneer.

"Thank-you, may the Maker go with you!" Isolde said tearfully.

"Hopefully not, that would be distracting…" The brunette muttered.

"We can… we can begin any time." Jowan said.

"Hmph… blood magic." Sten snorted.

The qunari turned and left, he would not be party to this foolishness. He would wait outside with his sanity intact.

"I… don't think I can watch this. I will go and tell Leliana what is happening." Teagan said.

Mjolnir nodded and the man left to go upstairs to the family's quarters.

"Are you…ready, My Lady?" Jowan asked.

"Yes…" Isolde sank to her knees, "I am ready."

"You can leave if you want." The mage said to Mjolnir.

The elf shook his head, "No."

Jowan nodded and turned to Morrigan, "If you could stand beside Lady Isolde please."

Remarkably, Morrigan had no comment to make as she moved to stand beside Isolde's kneeling form.

"I'm sorry, Lady Isolde, but I need to cut your arms, just two small cuts."

The woman nodded her assent and began to pray. Jowan looked around for something sharp and Morrigan handed him the small knife she sometimes used in her potion making. Isolde's prayers were interrupted by a short cry of pain as Jowan cut her arm, but she returned to her litanies the moment it was done. She pressed her clasped hands to her forehead and rocked back and forth. She didn't cry out when Jowan cut her other arm.

"Okay…" The mage let out a shaky breath and gave Morrigan her knife back. "Stand back." He said to Mjolnir.

The elf moved back against the wall. Yggdrasil loped down the stairs from the upstairs quarters and stood beside his master. A strange golden aura surrounded Isolde as Jowan began the ritual, she was still praying. The mage began muttering in a language Mjolnir didn't understand and he swiped his hand at Lady Isolde. She screamed and Mjolnir recoiled at the sound of her breaking bones, it was as if a giant invisible hand was squeezing the woman, crushing her. Jowan spoke the strange words louder and this time swiped both hands through the air. Isolde's second scream was cut off by a horrible gurgle as she was lifted right off her feet by an unseen force. Great gouts of blood spurted from the cuts on her arms; it seemed the stream would never end. Morrigan let out a cry of surprised pain as the streams of blood struck her in the chest like a stone fist. Isolde fell to the ground, lifeless. Morrigan's eyes rolled up and her body jerked before she crumpled to the ground.

"The ritual… was a success. Now all we can do is hope your friend can defeat the demon." Jowan said quietly.

* * *

**TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

A reminder: Mjolnir and his daddy have the same name :)

Also, I hate how this site totally eats my fic's formatting. It's such a piss off ^^;;;;

* * *

_I… I don't remember a time when I've been so happy. Keeper Sevira allowed me to leave! I am now living with Sabrae clan, living with Mjolnir. There was some turmoil of course and a lot of shouting but… I think in the end the Keeper felt a rare instance of pity for me. She knew I didn't much like Dalziel, the man I was to be paired with had I not left. I think she knew that I would be much happier with Mjolnir._

_It is amazing, how different Sabrae clan is from Abasi clan. My clan was a unit, we lived together, but it was still "survival of the fittest". Those that are gravely injured or sick are left to die so food and resources are not "wasted". Sabrae clan is nothing like that, everyone works together, the sick and the injured are taken care of no matter what their chances of survival are. If Mjolnir had joined Abasi they would have left him to figure things out on his own. It is not that way in Sabrae. Everyone has been so helpful, especially Mjolnir's First, Marethari. I don't even have to ask (or beg) for help, as soon as someone notices that you're struggling with something they come over to assist you. It's strange, but I think I like Sabrae's way of life much better._

_This morning I finally asked Mjolnir how he came to be in Sabrae clan. I saw from the beginning that he looked nothing like anyone else in his clan, but was too shy to ask until now. He told me-_

Morrigan twitched and Mjolnir looked up from his mother's journal. The mage had been gone for nearly an hour. Jowan had explained that fighting a demon was difficult, you had to navigate the maze-like mind of the possessed for one and then you had to force the demon to show itself. Once it was out in the open actually fighting and defeating it was no small matter either.

The elf hadn't seen Alistair since the man stormed out, but Sten had returned. The Qunari was upstairs now with Yggdrasil, keeping an eye on Connor. Teagan had gone to Redcliffe to inform the village that the castle had been retaken, Leliana went in search of Alistair, and Mjolnir remained to watch over Jowan and Morrigan. The Dalish's gaze moved from Morrigan to the draped form of Lady Isolde. After the ritual concluded Jowan had gently folded the woman's arms over her chest then covered her with a tablecloth. She would be cremated once things in Redcliffe came to its conclusion, whatever that may be.

* * *

Morrigan was losing her patience. Fast. She'd been running about the endlessly hazy maze of the Fade for far too long. At every turn she found apparitions of the fool boy and his father, but no demon. She had also found the Arl himself, connected to the Fade despite his coma, but hadn't been able to get any sense out of him.

"I can make the boy Tranquil, demon." She said. "The elf will be angry, but I care not. I tire of this. You will perish along with the boy's connection to the Fade."

She raised her staff. A small voice, a boy's voice, spoke behind her,

"Stop."

Morrigan smiled.

* * *

"I found Alistair. He was moping around the courtyard." Leliana wrung her fingers nervously, "He wishes to speak with you."

The Dalish nodded and tucked his mother's journal back into the pouch attached to his belt. He nodded toward Jowan, who was sitting passively on one of the chairs that lined the room, and then at Morrigan, who still lay where she'd fallen.

"Keep an eye on them."

"I will." The woman replied.

Mjolnir slung his bow over his shoulder and made his way outside. He found Alistair sitting neatly in one of the crenel on the battlements, facing the courtyard, his legs hanging over the edge. The late afternoon sky had clouded over and a drizzle of rain fell. Mjolnir hopped up onto the merlon beside Alistair, crouching there looking much like an oversized bird of prey, his hands dangling between his knees.

"You wished to speak with me." He said.

"Lady Isolde… how… how could you let that **blood mage** kill her!"

The elf sighed softly, "Alistair, there was not enough time to reach the Circle. There are how many left in the village? Seventy? Eighty? Ninety people, at the most. Most, if not all, of them would have died had we tried to reach the Circle on foot. We could have killed Connor instead, but he is just a boy. One I don't think even knew what he'd gotten himself into. Lady Isolde was willing to sacrifice her life. She was the most logical choice."

"And is that what I am to tell Arl Eamon if- when he wakes up?" Alistair snapped. "That his wife's gruesome death was the 'most logical choice'?"

"No, you will tell him everything before that. He will come to that conclusion on his own."

"He-"

"I am not happy about her death, Alistair." Mjolnir cut the man off, but his voice held no impatience or anger. "It was not an easy decision to stand by, but it is done."

Alistair hung his head and his shoulders sagged, "I'm sorry. I know… I know it wasn't easy for you. I just… it feels like a failure."

"That is because it is. Of course the ideal outcome is for no one to die at all, for everyone to be saved, but sometimes that cannot be done. Sometimes a sacrifice must be made. Sometimes… someone must die." The elf set one hand on the back of Alistair's neck, squeezing it gently. "And it is not your fault, Alistair."

The blond bit the inside of his lip and didn't reply. He knew that if he spoke now he'd only end up crying and, by the Maker, he didn't want to look like such a wuss in front of Mjolnir…

The elf either didn't notice or pretended not to notice Alistair's struggle with himself, "If blame must be laid at someone's feet, I lay it at the feet of your Teyrn Loghain. The man set this chain of events in motion."

Alistair nodded mutely and the Dalish squeezed the man's nape once more. A thin rumble of thunder sounded overhead and Mjolnir glanced up at the darkening sky.

"Come inside, Alistair."

* * *

With a cry of pure frustrated anger Morrigan dodged a bolt of lightning that had been lobbed at her head, ducking down behind a gnarl of gigantic tree roots. She'd lured the demon out and subsequently refused its offer to "join" and was now whirling and dodging around spells of all kinds. That **elf** owed her… immensely. It would have been so much easier to kill the damned foolish brat!

The demon laughed and hurled a ball of purplish energy at Morrigan's hiding spot, blowing her out of cover (and very nearly out of her shoes). The woman hit the ground with a bone-jarring thump, biting her tongue when she landed. Exquisite pain! Morrigan spat blood onto the dirt then rolled away as razor-sharp icicles pelted the ground where she'd lain seconds before. She got to her feet and slashed her staff diagonally through the air. There was no visible spell energy, but the demon was cut crossways across its chest. It shrieked in a feminine voice, but it was no more female than Sten was elven. Desire demons, they could be anything you wanted. At the moment, this one was a right pain in her arse.

"You will pay for that, mortal!" The demon shrieked, flying at Morrigan, sharp fingernails ready to gouge out those exotic golden eyes.

Morrigan jerked her head backward and the demon's nails raked down her cheek instead. She cast a cold spell of her own, driving a cluster of icicles into the demon's upper thighs and stomach. The demon glided haphazardly backward, black ichor seeping from between its lips. Taking advantage of the creature's diminished strength Morrigan hit it with a purple-white fan of lightning. The demon convulsed, shrieking loud enough to hurt the woman's ears. The demon collapsed and Morrigan ceased the wave of lightning. The creature was still alive, but only just. It twitched on the ground, looking hatefully up at Morrigan. The woman stood over it and thrust the sharpened end of her mage's staff into the demon's throat. There was a spray of black liquid and then the creature was finally dead.

* * *

Leliana jumped backward with a little scream as Morrigan let out a loud gasp and sat bolt upright.

"'Tis me, I am no Abomination." The mage said to Mjolnir, who had an arrow pointed at her. "The demon is dead and the boy should awaken at any moment."

The elf lowered his bow, "Ma serannas."

"Hmph."

Teagan came into the throne room with a handful of villagers and a few soldiers behind him. When he heard the news of the demon's death, his entire face lit up.

"I cannot thank you enough. Praise the Maker for the day he brought you to us. I don't know what would have happened had you not come." The man looked over at Isolde's covered form and his expression sobered, "We will… have to attend to our dead and I… I must talk to Connor; I do not know what I will tell him."

"Tell him his mother saved him." Mjolnir replied.

Teagan nodded then glanced at Jowan, the mage hadn't moved from his chair. "What are we to do with him?"

"He is your prisoner, it is your choice." Mjolnir said. "However, I suggest leniency as he did help."

The Bann looked at the few remaining soldiers, "Take him to the dungeon. We will wait for Eamon to decide his fate."

The soldiers nodded and moved to collect Jowan. The man didn't resist or even speak, he left with them willingly. Sten and Yggdrasil appeared in the doorway,

"The boy is awake." The Qunari said.

"I will go to him now…" Teagan looked at the rest of the group, "I imagine you're all hungry and tired. Please, return to Redcliffe and go to Hattie's Inn. She'll feed you and have soft beds for you to sleep in. We'll continue this tonight or tomorrow morning. And again, thank-you."

Redcliffe had changed much from yesterday. Children played outside and women walked the injured around the village square while men and women alike cleaned up the remains of the barricades. The atmosphere of the village was still slightly somber, but no one had that look of hopeless desperation as they did before. They looked ready to begin moving on.

At Hattie's Inn the group enjoyed a meal of lamb stew and bread with a slice of apple pie for dessert (Hattie was quite flattered by how ravenously Mjolnir ate her food) before going upstairs to have a well-deserved rest.

Within his room, Mjolnir tossed and turned restlessly on the bed. Yggdrasil, curled up at the foot, raised his head to sleepily regard his master. The elf grunted and rolled onto his back. How could humans stand to sleep on these things? They were so… soft and squishy; it felt like it was trying to swallow him whole.

"Stay here if you wish, I cannot sleep here." Mjolnir said, scratching Yggdrasil behind the ears before sliding himself out of bed.

But, as Mjolnir redressed, the hound jumped off the bed and stood beside his master, waggling his stubby tail. The elf left the inn with his hound at his side, telling Hattie that he just couldn't sleep (he didn't want to hurt the woman's feelings by telling her that human beds were so uncomfortable!) and that he would meet the rest of his companions in the village square later.

As Mjolnir searched out a nice shady spot to sleep in, a familiar voice hailed him,

"Ser!"

Bodahn and Sandal were standing by their pull cart in the village square and the elf approached them. Sandal laughed and stroked Yggdrasil's head as the Mabari licked him on the cheek.

"How are you?" The Dalish asked.

"Very well indeed, ser," Bodahn replied, "The villagers were very grateful for our help. Bann Teagan even offered us an exclusive trade deal with Rainsfere." The dwarf grinned proudly.

"Congratulations."

"Thank-you very much, ser. It wouldn't have happened without your help, so my gratitude to you as well."

Sandal approached Mjolnir, looking shy, holding something behind his back.

"What have you got there, boy?" Bodahn asked kindly, "Do you have a present for Mjolnir?"

Sandal nodded and said, "Enchantment!" He held his gift out to Mjolnir.

The elf blinked, speechless. Laid across the dwarf's palms was a silver dagger. Runes were etched into the weapon's blade, they glowed a faint blue.

"Ah, there he goes again." Bodahn said proudly, "Always enchanting things."

"It is… beautiful. Ma serannas, Sandal." Mjolnir said, lifting the dagger from Sandal's hands.

"Welcome." Sandal said timidly.

"What will you do now?" Mjolnir asked, sliding his new dagger into the sheath resting in the small of his back.

"Oh, I think we'll head to the Frostback Mountains, I have a supplier that I can buy poultices from cheap there. Then perhaps we'll come back this way or go north to Denerim."

"I wish you good luck, Bodahn." Mjolnir said, extending his hand to the dwarf.

"And to you, ser." Bodahn replied, shaking the elf's hand.

"Dareth shiral, Sandal."

"Bye, Moller." The blond dwarf replied, "Bye, doggy."

Yggdrasil barked his farewell. Mjolnir watched as Bodahn and Sandal pulled their cart up the hill, watched until they were gone. He then found a patch of grass in the shade beneath a large pine tree and lay down with Yggdrasil, falling asleep in seconds. For the remainder of the day curious villagers came and went, all having a look at the strange elf that had saved them… sleeping on the ground with his Mabari.

While Mjolnir and his comrades slept the remainder of the afternoon and the whole night away, Teagan worked tirelessly. He spoke with Connor, giving the boy a very toned-down version of the events that had transpired and had Lady Isolde prepared for cremation. Soldiers and villagers combed the castle, looking for survivors. They'd found only six survivors, huddled up and hiding in the empty horses' stables. He also wracked his brain, trying to think up some kind of reward for the Wardens and their companions. A small smile came to his lips. He'd thought of the perfect item.

* * *

The throne room was filled with golden light and the mood was very subdued. They had conveyed Lady Isolde's earthly remains to the Maker just hours before, as the sun rose over the hills. Connor attended the ceremony with one of his mother's surviving ladies-in-waiting. The boy was pale and he had quietly thanked Morrigan for her help. Morrigan's nose wrinkled, but she'd accepted the boy's gratitude without a smart comment.

"I know we have already asked so much of you…" Teagan began, pacing back and forth on the dais with his arms clasped behind his back, "But I must ask something else."

"Of course." Morrigan snorted.

"I do not expect this to be your top priority, but… if any of the Knights return with information about a cure for Eamon, can I ask you to look into it?"

"Of course." Mjolnir replied, ignoring Morrigan's second snort.

"Thank-you." Teagan smiled, "If information is found I will send it to all the major outposts on your route. I will put the messages under the false name of Woodrow Kent, in case Loghain's influence has spread further than we know."

"We'll check every time we stop." Alistair promised.

"Now, before you go, I have a reward for you."

"Oh, we don't need anything." Leliana said.

Morrigan shot the redhead a look, "That is easy for you to say. You did not nearly bite your tongue off fighting a demon."

"Trust me, you will appreciate this reward."

"Very well." Mjolnir said.

The noble turned away and opened a case made of solid gold. He pulled something from it and turned back toward the group. It appeared to be a scepter of some kind. It was about the length of Teagan's arm and made of yellow gold, small crystals of what looked like lyrium dotted one end.

"Ooo." Leliana murmured appreciatively, "…What is it?"

"This once belonged to mine and Eamon's father." Bann Teagan replied, "This is a golem control rod."

Morrigan's eyebrows shot up in surprise and a glimmer of approval flitted across Sten's expression.

"How did… where did…?" Alistair sputtered.

"Our father had a mage named Wilhelm in his employ. The mage discovered the golem in the Deep Roads and now it sleeps in Wilhelm's home village of Honnleath. Eamon never awakened it because Lady Isolde-" The man swallowed thickly, "-Isolde didn't approve. She said it was an affront against the Maker. But, I think you could use it."

He held the rod out and Mjolnir nodded at Alistair. The warrior stepped forward and took the control rod carefully, holding it as if he were afraid it might break.

"I'm afraid Honnleath is a bit out of your way, however. It is about a four day's walk to the southwest. It may be overrun with darkspawn by now…"

"I think the possible inconvenience would be worth it…?" Alistair asked, glancing at Mjolnir.

The elf considered the pros and cons then nodded. "It seems like it."

"To activate the golem just hold up the rod and say 'dulen harn'." The man explained.

"Thank-you, Bann Teagan." Alistair said.

"It was the least I could do." Teagan replied.

* * *

_This morning I finally asked Mjolnir how he came to be in Sabrae clan. I saw from the beginning that he looked nothing like anyone else in his clan, but was too shy to ask until now. He told me that long ago Sabrae ventured much further north than they do now and one rainy grey morning a strange elf stumbled into Sabrae camp. The elf was blood-spattered, bruised, bleeding, and very pregnant. This elf was Mjolnir's mother. The poor thing was weak and hysterical. All they could get out of her was that she was First in a different clan and that their Keeper had turned to the dark side of blood magic, that he had started sacrificing his own clan to fuel his spells. She'd fled the massacre, running blindly through the forest. For how long, she didn't know. She then clutched her belly and said, "I had to save Mjolnir," and then collapsed. The Keeper was able to save Mjolnir, but his mother died during the birth. How sad, that he doesn't even know his own mother's name because she died without giving it. Sabrae clan sent its hunters to try and find the camp she came from, but no trace was found. After a while, they moved back down south._

_Again, I am struck by the differences between Abasi and Sabrae. A strange elf, even one born among them, would have never been made Keeper. Though they probably would have left Mjolnir's mother to die in the first place… but in Sabrae Mjolnir was taken in as one of their own. He was adopted by a lovely couple (whom I have never met. Sadly, they passed away a year before Mjolnir and I met,) and when he showed aptitude for magic Keeper Faolan made him her First. When she passed on, Mjolnir became Keeper. I am proud of my husband-to-be, he has overcome so much._

Mjolnir tensed and looked up from the pages he'd been reading. Yggdrasil flattened his ears and growled. He'd heard the same soft snap of a twig that Mjolnir heard.

"We're being followed, Yggdrasil." Mjolnir said quietly.

The hound growled again. Redcliffe was far behind them now; they'd walked until darkness fell and made camp on the pebbled shore of a small lake. Mjolnir and Yggdrasil were on watch, sitting by a crackling fire, enjoying the faint sound of cricket song until now. The Dalish scanned the dark treeline, but saw nothing. Yggdrasil could detect a very faint scent of leather, but it wasn't strong enough to see or follow.

"They have been following us since we left Redcliffe." The elf said, "I wonder… are they bandits? Or more of the human General's assassins?"

Yggdrasil snarled softly in reply. Mjolnir stood and aimed an arrow into the woods. He stood there for a long time, aiming into the dark, then let the arrow fly.

Within the wood, a woman just barely contained a scream by clasping both hands over her mouth as Mjolnir's arrow struck a tree mere inches away from her face.

There was a low, quiet chuckle, "It appears the Warden has noticed us and is warning us off."

"Maybe we should take the hint." A man's voice said sourly.

"Don't be ridiculous, man. The Crows never go back on their word. We will fall back for now and wait for the opportune moment."

* * *

**TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon. The sky was cloudless, clear, and blue. The air was warm with only a hint of a fall chill. Trees with leaves colored red, brown, gold, and orange swayed in the light breeze. It was a quiet day and Sten did not trust it. Their pursuers had fallen back and that made him suspicious. He did not believe that they had simply given up. They were planning something. The elf and his hound knew of their pursuers, as did the Chantry Sister (which he found odd, he was still confused by her presence. Women did not fight,) and they were on alert. The warrior and the witch remained oblivious to both their followers and the watchful mood of their comrades. Sten wondered how the Tamassran could have ever released those two into the world in this ill-equipped state. No matter, at least the elf had his wits about him.

Sten approached Leliana, falling in step beside her. The woman cast an uncertain smile up at him.

"Why are you here?" He asked abruptly.

Her smile turned into a confused frown, "What do you mean?"

"Women are merchants, farmers, or priests. None of them have any place in fighting."

"I… have no idea how to answer that…" Leliana said.

"It is not done. There is no more to it." Sten replied simply.

"Do you mean your people have no female mages or warriors?"

Sten stared at her briefly, decided her question was sincere and not mocking, "Of course not. Why would our women wish to be men?"

Leliana looked at him queerly, "What are you talking about? They don't wish to be men."

"They shouldn't. That can only lead to frustration." The Qunari said in all seriousness.

"Sten…" The redhead sighed, rubbing her forehead as if she had suddenly developed a headache, "No… never mind. Let's drop this."

"As you wish." Sten replied, though he felt a measure of frustration. He was no more enlightened than before. Perhaps he'd speak with the witch later, though he was certain he'd get nothing but cheek from that one.

The elf came to a sudden dead stop and Alistair bumped into him. This time no one but Sten (and perhaps Yggdrasil) knew what troubled Mjolnir enough to bring him to a halt, they'd come to the mouth of a narrow valley, the perfect spot for an ambush.

"Mjolnir? Are you all right?" Alistair asked.

"Yes, I am fine."

"I'm missing something again, aren't I?" The man asked.

"Roughly eleven or twelve people have been following us since we left Redcliffe." The Dalish replied.

Leliana caught onto Mjolnir's line of thinking, "They fell back a while ago, probably because they knew we had to come through here. They've set up an ambush."

Mjolnir nodded, "Yes."

"So we go around." Morrigan said.

"Going around will add an extra four days onto our journey." Alistair replied, "We can't afford to waste that kind of time."

"We've already wasted three days." The brunette retorted.

"Alistair is right." Mjolnir said, "We can't waste any more time than is necessary. We'll have to go through the valley."

"They won't have the element of surprise, at least." Leliana said.

"There are two Grey Wardens: one blond human male and one dark-haired elven male." The assassin said, looking around at his group of low-rank Crows and hired mercenaries. "The Wardens are the primary target, but I am certain the client will not be upset if we wipe them all out."

"Wardens are supposed to be tough ol' bastards." A merc said, "You hear stories about their strength and speed…"

"The keyword there is 'stories'." One of the women replied. "Don't be such a baby."

The elven assassin sighed inwardly; he couldn't believe these mercenaries had come so highly recommended…

"Zevran…!" A scout elbowed his way into the group. "They're coming! There's something wrong though. They're coming in real cautious-like. I think they know something is up."

Okay, so their 'bandits attacked the wagon, please help!' idea wasn't going to work anymore. No matter. The tree would still surprise them enough to throw them off balance… maybe.

"Forget the lure." The elf said, "Get into position. Don't attack until they are blocked in."

Everyone nodded and rushed off to get into place. Zevran took up his own position halfway up the gorge, hidden from anyone below by a cluster of rocks. He could see the barren oak tree from this spot, leaning precariously over the valley. Hopefully they wouldn't make anything of it and continue forward until they'd all passed underneath. That was the cue to give that tree the little nudge it needed to fall, blocking the targets' escape. They could try climbing the sides of the valley, but the soil was loose and rocky, Zevran had nearly fallen and broken his neck when he first attempted to climb up it. No, they had nowhere to go but forward… into death.

The first one to appear around the bend was the Dalish Warden. The scout had been right; the Warden definitely knew something was amiss. He walked with his longbow at the ready, eyes scanning every inch of the valley. Zevran purred quietly in appreciation, the dark-skinned elf was gorgeous, what a sin it was to destroy such splendor…

A Mabari painted with white kaddis and a red-haired woman came next. The hound was surprisingly feline in its movements, moving along close to the ground like a cat stalking its prey.

There was really no need to duck down as the elven Warden passed him, but better safe than sorry. Zevran hid behind the group of boulders as the other elf passed below. He could still see the bend and two more figures came cautiously around it: a dark-haired woman and a Qunari of all things. The blond Warden was last; he glanced up at the oak as he passed beneath its shadow. Zevran held his breath, but the man didn't notice anything wrong and kept on. The elf waited. There was a loud thump as a mercenary swung his heavy maul, striking the tree hard. The group below froze and turned in time to see the tree come crashing down, pinning them in.

Zevran burst from his hiding place along with the others. Shalyn, the only mage in the group, charged at the targets screaming like a mad woman, her hands aflame. Zevran was not in the least bit surprised when the Dalish Warden planted an arrow right between her eyes. He'd told her not to reveal that she was a mage right away, but she hadn't listened, and she had paid for it. Zevran leapt over her corpse, running straight for the elven Warden, dodging arrows and spells alike.

More mercs and the low-rank Crows cut off escape from the opposite end of the valley, but it was already quite obvious that their targets weren't going to run. They were going to fight. The Dalish Warden killed three mercs before Zevran closed the distance between them. He aimed a cut for the other elf's throat, his dagger glancing off wood when the Warden brought his bow up to protect his neck. In one fluid motion the Dalish turned his longbow into a blunt instrument, smacking Zevran soundly across the mouth with it. The blond stumbled backward, blood dripping from between his lips. A Crow fell dead behind him, beheaded by the Qunari's massive sword.

Zevran leapt backward as the Dalish lashed at him with his own dagger, the blade glowing faintly blue. They whirled and darted around, striking out, making superficial cuts on each other, but neither being yet able to land a lethal blow. The Crow was acutely aware that his comrades were dropping like flies, but he didn't care, his focus was solely on the Warden. He took a risk, aimed a jab at the elf's throat, and missed when the Warden jerked his head backward. There was a sting of pain as the Dalish's blade cut him deep across the forearm. A shoulder was rammed hard into his chest and Zevran was knocked to the ground. The Warden was on top of him mere seconds after he landed and the blond just barely got his hands up in time to grab the dark-haired elf's wrists, bringing the dagger to a stop before it could puncture his armor and the flesh beneath it.

The Warden's long black hair had come loose from its plait, curtaining them both as the elf pushed all his weight forward onto the dagger, trying to snap Zevran's wrists and plunge the blade into him. Only twice before had the assassin fought someone who possessed such ferocity. How invigorating it was! He might've even been a little turned on if he wasn't about to die. Oh, who was he kidding, he _was_ a little turned on. Then Zevran noticed something quite peculiar, the Dalish was not pushing quite as hard with one arm, favoring his right shoulder. Interesting…

The assassin moved quickly, letting go with one hand. The dagger's point sank into his armor but didn't quite reach skin. Zevran struck out with all his might, ramming the heel of his palm into the Warden's favored shoulder. The Dalish let out a snarl of pain and reeled backward, all the crushing weight lifted from the dagger. Zevran grabbed his own blade and struck again, meaning to cut the elf's throat. But even in great pain, the Warden had unearthly reflexes. He lurched backward and Zevran left only a shallow nick across his adam's apple. The two elves rolled away from each other and got to their feet. Only two of the Crow's comrades were still ali- one of the mercs took an arrow to the eye courtesy of the redhead. Only one Crow novice was left, wildly fighting off the blond Warden and the Qunari. The brunette, the Wardens' own mage, was utterly spent and had to rest before she would be a threat again. The redhead that had killed the mercenary was now busy disarming a trap near the Qunari's feet.

"Just you and me, Grey Warden." Zevran said charmingly.

The Dalish said nothing. He had very dark eyes, feral. They sent a shiver through Zevran. He could not decide if it was a pleasant shiver or not. The pair charged at each other again, slashing, spinning, darting. Zevran had just landed a lucky hit, cutting the dark-haired elf's cheek, when a very loud, very close snarl caught his attention. The Mabari. He'd forgotten all about it. It lunged at him, a nearly two hundred pound projectile of muscle and teeth. Zevran brought his arm up to shield his jugular and the hound's needle-sharp fangs sank into his arm, ripping into the cut the Warden landed earlier. Zevran raised his dagger to stab the dog and it locked its jaw, sinking its teeth in deeper. The pain was beyond excruciating and the elf dropped his dagger, his hand having involuntarily spasmed in agony.

"Yggdrasil! Release him!"

Though dazed by pain, Zevran was confused as the Mabari released him. The elf came up to him, grabbed him by the neck of his armor. Ah, it made sense now. The Warden wanted to kill him himsel- **WHAM!** The Dalish's hard skull smashed into his face, bright lights popped in his vision.

_A strange way to kill someone…_ Zevran thought before he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Why did you not kill him?" Morrigan asked scornfully as their would-be assassin crumpled at Mjolnir's feet.

"He is the last one alive and he has questions to answer." The Dalish replied.

"Because it is not obvious who sent him?" The witch asked dryly.

"There could be others." Mjolnir explained, "He may know how many, where they are, and what they plan."

The elf looked around, searching for something to tie the assassin up with. He spotted a coil of rope by an overturned oxcart -apparently the assassins had orchestrated some kind of ploy that they had abandoned last-minute- and walked over to it, picking it up. He cut two lengths and returned to the blond elf, binding his wrists and ankles.

"Wait here." He said, grabbing the assassin by his bound ankles.

"What?" Alistair blinked.

"If he will not talk, I will have to do unpleasant things to him." The Dalish said calmly, "Do you wish to watch that?"

"No…!"

"Then wait here."

And with that he dragged the bound elf off. Leliana and Alistair exchanged uneasy looks. Sten folded his arms with something looking a little like approval on his face.

Mjolnir dragged the assassin far around the next bend and stopped by a collection of boulders. He dropped the elf's tied ankles; they made a muffled thump and sent up a puff of dust as they struck the ground. The Dalish crouched beside this strange elf, looking him over. He pulled a swatch of cloth bandages from his pouch and lifted the assassin's bound arms, wrapping up the one that Yggdrasil had bitten. He stood again and circled around the blond. He had never been so close to a city elf before. One had joined his clan not long before he left, but he hadn't yet spoken with him. He and Tamlen planned to talk to the newcomer after their hunting trip, but they'd made their acquaintances with the mirror instead. Mjolnir turned away. He didn't want to think of that. Not now.

He turned back toward the assassin and circled him again like a curious animal. This elf didn't smell of man, but he didn't exactly smell of elves either. His scent was caught somewhere in between: leather, metallic copper, sunlight, and something musky. One side of the blond's face was marked with a curved tattoo, but Mjolnir didn't recognize it as a symbol from the elven pantheon. It looked more like it was meant to accentuate the elf's bone structure.

His curiosity sated, Mjolnir moved back and sat himself on the smallest boulder. He got out his carving knife and his nearly-finished yew bow. He began to carve the final details while he waited.

The first thing Zevran became aware of was that he was not dead.

_How odd…_

The second thing that seeped into his awareness was that everything hurt… and that a sharp rock was poking into his back. He tried to raise one hand to brush the dried blood off his lips and found that he couldn't. His hands were bound.

"Mmmn…" He groaned, "What…?"

He shifted his body and discovered that his ankles were tied as well. He half-opened one eye then shut it again. The glare… the sun was too bright. A shadow fell over his face and Zevran warily opened his eyes. The Dalish Warden was standing over him, blotting out the sun.

Though it wretchedly hurt his wounded mouth, Zevran smiled, "Well now, here I thought I would wake up dead… or not at all."

The other elf said nothing and moved to the side so he no longer blocked the sun. Zevran winced and shut his eyes against the glare. There was a scraping sound as the Dalish Warden crouched beside him. He grabbed the neck of Zevran's armor and pulled him into a sitting position. The assassin's head swam. Something was pressed to his lips. He slowly opened one eye to see that the Grey Warden was offering him a sip from a waterskin. He took one, the water turning bitter and metallic on his tongue as it sifted through his bloodied teeth.

"Your name." The elven Warden's voice was surprisingly deep.

"Zevran Arainai, Antivan Crow and proficient lover, at your service."

The Dalish's expression did not change. It was like talking to a rock face, but a handsome rock face nonetheless…

"Might I know your name?" Zevran inquired.

"No."

"Alas…" He sighed.

"I have some questions for you, Zevran."

"Of course."

The Warden's expression changed the slightest bit; a vague flutter of suspicion clouded his features. No doubt he was wondering why his prisoner was being so cooperative.

Mjolnir straightened up and moved back a little, studying this Zevran. The man seemed oddly calm and composed… and flirtatious for someone at the mercy of another.

"Do you wish to know who sent me?" The blond elf asked.

"No, I know that already. Teyrn Loghain has tried to kill us once before."

"And they failed as well. Excellent!"

The Dalish was even more confused now. The assassin was happy with failure?

"Although, technically, it was Arl Howe how hired me. Loghain just put his stamp of approval on the Arl's initiative."

"I see." Mjolnir moved further back, resting his back against a large boulder, "I assume you are not loyal to either."

"I was contracted to perform a service. That is all." Zevran confirmed.

"Are there more of you?"

"Not in my band, no, but once word reaches the Crows that you still live they will send others… and of course there is nothing stopping your Teyrn Loghain from hiring less talented assassins."

Mjolnir nodded. There really was no reason to believe anything this assassin said and yet… he did. There was sincerity in Zevran's voice and it did not seem artificial to him. He was still wary, however, why was the elf volunteering this information so readily?

"Now, if I may, I have a proposal to make… unless of course you are intent on cutting my throat or something equally gruesome."

The Dalish folded his arms, "Speak."

"Well, here's the thing, I failed to kill you so my life is forfeit. That is the way business is when one works for the Antivan Crows. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living and you are the sort to give the Crows pause so let me serve you instead."

The Dalish pushed off the rock he'd been leaning on and circled around Zevran, looking him over.

"And what stops you from killing us later?"

"To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I paid my worth back to them plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch. Even if I did kill you now they might just kill me on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you."

Mjolnir sat cross-legged in the dirt next to Zevran. He stared silently at him for a long time, thinking over the blond's proposition. They needed all the help they could get, and he did believe Zevran's story, but there was still that little bit of him that was always cautious. To his credit, the assassin bore close scrutiny without so much as a twitch. He simply smiled at Mjolnir, waiting.

"…Very well, Zevran. I accept your offer."

"You will not regret it, I promise you."

Mjolnir stood, "That remains to be seen."

The Dalish leaned down to grab Zevran by his bound wrists, yanking him to his feet. Their faces were just scant inches apart and Zevran experienced a rather suicidal urge to lick the Warden's upper lip. He smirked.

"Do not move." Mjolnir said, unsheathing his dagger and sawing through the ropes binding Zevran's wrists with its serrated edge.

"I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man without reservation. This, I swear." The (former) Crow gave a little bow, balancing perfectly despite his tied ankles.

Mjolnir said nothing. He just freed Zevran's feet, sheathed his dagger again, and then turned and walked off. Zevran smirked, admiring the Dalish's nerve, turning his back on an assassin.

"Do I get the pleasure of knowing your name now?" Zevran called after him.

"Mjolnir." The elf replied without turning around.

"He… what!" Alistair exclaimed.

"He is coming with us." Mjolnir repeated.

The man laughed a little frenziedly, "If there ever was a sign that we were desperate, this is it! What if he tries to kill us again?"

"Then I will kill him." The Dalish replied frankly.

"Yeah, sure, why not. Let's bring the assassin with us!" Alistair laughed again, heading off down the path with Sten following after him.

"A fine plan, but I would examine your food and drink more closely from now on, were I you." Morrigan said sardonically.

"That's excellent advice for anyone." Zevran grinned.

"Welcome, Zevran." Leliana smiled, "Having an Antivan Crow join us is a fine plan."

The blond's grin widened, "Oh? You are another companion-to-be, then? I did not know such beauty existed among adventurers."

Leliana's smile turned into a slightly revolted grimace, "Or maybe not."

The two women turned and followed after Alistair, who had already vanished around the next bend. Yggdrasil sniffed at Zevran, growled, and then trotted after Leliana.

"I have a feeling that I am not welcome." The elf chuckled.

Mjolnir didn't reply. He merely handed a poultice to Zevran then continued on.

* * *

**TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

The little girl. She was the first one he saw when he awoke. Her hair was blonde, as light as cornsilk. Her eyes were very large and blue. When she saw that he was awake she had smiled at him and offered a little baked sweet he'd never had before. He was starving and ate the offered morsel in one bite, it was delicious.

The little girl. Her blonde hair was pink now, stained with her own blood. Her eyes were still blue, open and unseeing. She lay curled beside a woman, whose white blonde hair was fanned out in a pool of one of the men's blood. Sten stood over them, stood over them all. They were dead. He had killed them. He was a monster, a mindless beast.

With a sharp intake of breath, Sten awoke from his uneasy slumber. The fire beside him was burning low and the surrounding canyon was dark. It was still night. He sat up and stared at the blanket beneath his crossed legs for a long time. He didn't understand. He felt guilt for losing his self-control, as he should, but he felt much more for killing the imekari. Why? The Tamassran taught that the deaths of basra was no loss, but the girl… in her faded pink and brown checked dress. He felt more regret for killing her than losing his-

A soft sound alerted him to another presence and he sharply turned his head. The elf, not the competent one, the loud-mouthed blond, was watching him from across the dying fire. The Qunari expected a barrage of inane, irritating questions, but surprisingly the elf said nothing. He merely smirked, added more logs to the fire, then turned and walked away into the darkness. Sten watched him go until even the elf's outline wasn't distinguishable. The Qunari grunted and lay down, staring up at the frosty white stars above for a long time.

Zevran lazily stretched his arms over his head as he strolled through the darkness toward the edge of camp. He grinned to himself. He'd really struck it lucky, trying to kill the Wardens. Not only would the Crows hesitate to kill him while under the protection of the Dalish Warden, everyone in this group was good looking. Even the Qunari was nice to look at. His favourites, though, were Mjolnir and the witch; he had a thing for dark hair…

A soft growl interrupted his thoughts and he came to a stop, still grinning, as the Warden's hound came toward him, fangs bared.

"I come in peace." He said, holding his hands up, showing the hound that they were empty.

The dog continued to growl and his ears flattened against his skull.

"Leave him, Yggdrasil." A voice in the darkness said.

Yggdrasil snorted, but did as his Master bid, backing off. With his hands still held up, Zevran edged around the animal. He expected to see Mjolnir standing watch, but the elf was nowhere in sight. There was only a murky thicket of trees.

"Warden?"

"Here."

The blond elf tilted his head back and could just make out the Dalish's outline above him, high in a tree.

"Reporting for duty," He smirked, giving the Warden a little salute.

"Yggdrasil,"

The animal glared at Zevran then turned and headed back to camp.

"Your hound doesn't seem to like me." Zevran chuckled.

"Indeed."

Though he pretended otherwise, Zevran knew quite well why Yggdrasil acted the way he did. Mabari had long memories; he would not soon forget that the Antivan had injured his Master. Yes, the cut he'd landed to the Warden's cheek which, oddly, the Dalish didn't heal. He'd instead applied a thin layer of poultice to the wound, just enough to prevent infection, and then stowed the rest of the potion in his pack. He would let the wound heal naturally, a strange choice in this world of healing magic and potions.

"Shouldn't someone be replacing you on watch?" The assassin asked.

"No."

"And why is that, Warden?"

The silence overhead was so long that the blond was certain that the Warden was ignoring him. Zevran held in a chuckle. He'd been doing this all day, pelting Mjolnir with questions. It was fun, trying to pry more than one word answers out of the Dalish. Suddenly, Mjolnir answered. He used more than one word even,

"I always take a double shift. I do not sleep as long as humans do."

"Why don't you sleep as long?" Zevran smirked, feeling a tad amused, standing in the middle of a dark, empty forest, looking as though he were talking to a tree.

"In my clan, I was a Hunter. I am used to getting up early to hunt for food for the clan. I am used to staying up late into the night, guarding the camp. I do not need more than six hours of rest."

"So, what are you doing up there?"

"Keeping watch,"

"You can't do that from down here?"

"What do you see?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What do you see?" Mjolnir repeated, "What is down there?"

"Well…" Zevran slowly revolved on the spot, "Trees."

"I can see the village of Honnleath, it is on fire, I can also see the orange glow of flames and the dark shadows of smoke. I can see darkspawn, they swarm the village, but I see no humans. Some of the darkspawn have entered the forest and I can track their movements. This, I can see from up here."

"Point taken," The blond elf chuckled.

There was a soft noise overhead and Zevran looked up to see that the Warden had jumped down to the branch just over his head with very little sound and without breaking the branch. The Dalish's eyes shone a faint green as they peered down upon Zevran.

"Your eyes…" He murmured.

"Yes, I know, they are captivating." Zevran smirked.

The Dalish's mouth twisted in a disapproving grimace, "They do not glow. You cannot see in the dark?"

"As well as you, my fine fellow? No." The blond chuckled, "But I can see in the dark better than our human companions. Of that, I am sure."

"I see."

"Our Qunari friend has a secret." Zevran said, "Something that disrupts his rest."

Mjolnir grunted and vanished back up into the tree, climbing soundlessly up the branches. Zevran chuckled; he'd learned very quickly that the Warden wasn't one for gossip. That didn't stop the blond from bringing it up nonetheless.

"May I join you?" He called up at Mjolnir's indistinct form.

"If you wish," Was the Warden's reply.

Zevran stared up at the tangle of branches overhead, feeling a bit disconcerted. How exactly did the Warden reach the first branch from the ground? It was a good fifteen feet above him. The blond looked around and saw that one of the trees opposite Mjolnir's had branches closer to the ground. That tree, he could climb. Grunting and cursing the whole way, Zevran scrabbled up the tree until he was level with the Warden. Through a curtain of leaves, he could see Mjolnir settled in his own tree. The dark-haired elf made no comment about Zevran's lack of climbing ability, his gaze focused on the distant Honnleath. Zevran turned his head and saw that the Warden had been right. You could see nearly everything from up here, Mjolnir could probably see much more due to his advanced night vision.

Honnleath was indeed on fire, orange and yellow licks of flame could be seen through the trees. Not for the first time, Zevran wondered what they were doing, going to a darkspawn infested village. No one would tell him, not even the cute redhead who'd filled him in on everything that had happened before he'd joined the group.

"What is in Honnleath?" He'd been asking this question at random moments throughout the day, as though hoping to surprise someone into answering.

The Dalish gave the answer he had before, "You will see."

Zevran saw that a branch thick enough to hold his weight could serve as a bridge to Mjolnir's tree. He walked across it, arms held out to the side for balance, and sat on a branch just behind and a little above the Warden. The Dalish glanced over his shoulder at him, his face impassive, before turning back toward the village. The assassin grinned. Oh, how he loved a challenge.

"So, why are you not lecturing me?" He asked.

"Why would you expect me to lecture you?" Mjolnir replied without turning around.

"I lived with a Dalish clan for a time." Zevran said, "That's all they did; lecture me about how to be properly 'elvhen'."

"Are you the same as everyone in your clan?" The Dalish inquired.

"We city elves don't have clans."

"Then, are you the same as your elven brethren within the city?" Mjolnir asked.

Zevran laughed, "Of course not!"

"Then why would you assume that I was the same as mine?"

"Well…" Zevran trailed off. He didn't have an answer for that and, of course, the Dalish didn't prod him for one.

Mjolnir suddenly stood and walked rapidly to the end of the branch, Zevran held his breath as the branch creaked and bent under the elf's weight.

"What-"

"Shh!" Mjolnir hissed, readying his bow, aiming an arrow into the forest below.

Zevran strained his ears and, just over the sound of the light wind, he heard it. There was a soft rustling of leaves and the quiet snap of a twig below, something was coming toward them. It moved closer and closer. It was nearly beneath them when Mjolnir released the arrow. There was a sharp squeal, a muffled thud, and then all was quiet again.

"What if that was a survivor and not a darkspawn?" Zevran teased.

"A survivor covered in the worst kind of filth and blood still could not smell as those creatures do, they smell of death itself."

And yet, Zevran thought there was more to it than that. He saw the way the Warden flexed his right hand, working his shoulder as though it pained him. Mjolnir waited to see if stirrings could be heard from below, but there was nothing. He returned to his perch, crouching low on the branch, hands clasped on his knees.

"You know, I can help you with that shoulder of yours." Zevran said casually. "I have… nimble fingers."

The Warden frowned, reverted back to his one word answers, "No."

After that, Mjolnir was done talking. He didn't speak no matter how many questions Zevran asked. In fact, the Dalish didn't say another word until they had returned to camp and awakened Leliana and Alistair for the final shift.

"I have only the clothes on my back." Zevran grinned, "Might I share your tent?"

Mjolnir stared at him as if he'd never seen another elf before then motioned to his pack, "Take my bedroll and my tent, I do not use either."

And with that, he went and lay down in the scrubby grass beside Yggdrasil, pillowing his head on one folded arm. Zevran blinked, torn between amusement and bewilderment, then retrieved Mjolnir's bedroll and tent. Yggdrasil opened one eye, keeping watch on the Antivan as he set the tent up. He didn't return to sleep until Zevran crawled into the tent with the bedroll tucked under one arm.

* * *

They were all around him. Their stench invaded his nostrils, making him gag. Darkspawn. They cut him, pulling ribbons of flesh from his arms and legs. He couldn't see them, but he could hear women screaming. And the voice… the voice was speaking…

_Yes, more. More must be born. Make. Create. More._

He fought and they held him down. He cried for Tamlen to help him, but there was no answer. The women's screams went on and on…

Every muscle in Mjolnir's body contracted and he struggled to sit up, a choked cry sticking in his throat. Once he managed to sit up, he leaned forward, breathing in hard, harsh gasps. His hair had come loose from its braid, framing his sweaty face. Yggdrasil whined and wedged his head under Mjolnir's arm. The elf absently scratched the hound on the neck and lifted his head up. The sun was just beginning to rise, but it was mostly hidden behind the large smudge of smoke hanging over the treetops. The cool morning air chilled the sweat clinging to his skin and he shivered.

"Is that… is that what happened to Tamlen…?"

Yggdrasil whined softly, he could see his Dalish Master's heartbreak; it polluted his smell, a moody blue-grey mist that swirled within the Master's usually bright green scent. He pressed his muzzle to his Dalish Master's ear, giving him an enthusiastic sniff. This had always cheered up his Redheaded Mistress and it seemed to work for his Dalish Master too. The Master smiled and scratched the good spot beneath his chin. His scent brightened a bit, pushed the mist away.

"Ma serannas, my friend," The elf murmured.

Yggdrasil wagged his stubby tail. He liked that word: friend.

* * *

It became more and more apparent the closer they came to the village, flesh had burned in Honnleath.

"Such a stench…!" Morrigan complained, holding her hand over her mouth and nose, "'Tis impossible to get out of your hair and clothes!"

Leliana silently agreed then promptly felt guilty for doing so.

"You're welcome to leave…" Alistair muttered.

"What, and leave you utterly defenseless? Perish the thought!" Morrigan retorted.

Normally, Mjolnir would have quelled them both with a look, but he didn't even turn around. Alistair was worried about the elf. The man had returned to camp after his watch to find Mjolnir looking grey and tired, cooking breakfast over the fire. Wardens had nightmares that disturbed their rest, Alistair had them almost every night, but it seemed to be more than that. However, when Alistair had asked if he was all right, Mjolnir had responded with a simple 'yes' and continued cooking. Also, despite the fact that the elf must have been starving, he ate none of the breakfast that he'd cooked, watching the others eat instead.

Though the fields of Honnleath ran red with blood, there were very few bodies, just corpses of the elderly, children, and those whose flesh and gristle had been stripped away by the darkspawn. Sten's mouth tautened as his gaze fell upon a little blond imekari lying face down beside the road.

Leliana looked as though she might vomit, "Why do they do this? Slaughter the children and the elderly and take the adults?"

Alistair looked sick as well, "No one really knows…" He cast a glance at one of the corpses that had been picked clean, "One theory is… well… there isn't much… food underground."

Mjolnir's stomach tightened painfully and Leliana let out a soft, anguished moan. Zevran murmured a few words in his native language and the Dalish cast a pained, curious look over his shoulder at him.

"A prayer, a lament for the dead," The Antivan explained.

Mjolnir nodded and continued on toward the village. The fires had mostly burned themselves out, but there were still a few piles of flaming wreckage here and there. Mostly, Honnleath had been reduced to blackened, skeletal remains. Yggdrasil whined softly in his throat. The scent of the Death hung over the village as thickly as the smoke did.

Honnleath had been a small village, the houses arranged in a half-circle around the village square. A pathway led up to a wooded area with a large tower that loomed over the scorched trees. The Dalish stepped gingerly around a burned body and headed up the trail. The rest of the group followed in silence. Zevran was bursting with curiosity, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Even Morrigan was silent, though her expression suggested that she was bored instead of trying to be respectful.

Mjolnir leaned forward, bullying his starving, tired body into walking up the steep path without pause. His blighted shoulder raged with white-hot pain, but he ignored it. At the top of the path, he came to a stop. He felt the others filing in behind him. The trees were mostly gone, just burnt little sticks, and the giant tower was soot-blackened and a little intimidating. In front of the tower, in a small fenced-in area, stood the golem that Teagan had sent them to find, streaked with soot and completely immobile. Its back was bent with its arms raised above its head. It looked as though it had frozen in the act of screaming at the sky. Zevran's eyebrows shot up slightly in surprise. Whatever he'd expected to find here, this wasn't it. Leliana had mentioned that they'd gotten a reward from Bann Teagan for saving Connor and Redcliffe, this must have been it.

Alistair broke the thick silence, making Leliana jump when he murmured, "I'm… starting to think this might not have been a good idea. It looks dangerous."

Morrigan scoffed, "The only danger is to the darkspawn. That is what the control rod is for, after all, to direct the danger to those deserving of it."

"I admit, it does look a little… frightening, but I agree with Morrigan, we have the control rod… and a golem would be very useful against the darkspawn." Leliana said. "Golems are the reason that the dwarves were able to hold out for so long. It was only when they could no longer make golems that they fell to the darkspawn."

Alistair still looked hesitant and he glanced at Mjolnir, "What do you think?"

The Dalish turned to look at Alistair then gazed down at the devastation in the village below. He looked back at the golem. The more help they had to end the sort of suffering that had happened in Honnleath, the better…

"…We will awaken it." He said after a lengthy silence.

Alistair sighed, but handed the control rod over to the elf. Mjolnir frowned slightly, seeing a hairline crack that ran the length of the rod. He wondered if it would still work. Well, only one way to find out. Everyone unconsciously leaned toward Mjolnir as the elf held the rod up, pointing it toward the golem.

"Dulen harn." Mjolnir said.

The control rod shuddered violently in his hand and Mjolnir grunted as he received a shock to the center of his palm. He dropped the rod and it landed with a soft thump upon the charred ground, where it was quickly forgotten as, slowly, the golem was starting to move. Its head jerked slightly and there was a loud cracking noise as it swung one arm and then the other. The group moved back a step as the golem stomped one foot and then the other, shaking the ground beneath them. With the sound of grinding stone, the golem stood up straight. At its full height, it was just a few inches shorter than Sten, though built much wider. No one seemed able to speak as the golem appeared to survey them. Its blank white eyes glowed faintly.

Then, much to everyone's astonishment, the golem spoke, its voice was low, raspy, and echoed slightly. "I knew the day would come when someone found the control rod, and not even a mage this time. Probably stumbled over the rod by accident, I suppose. Typical."

"N-no, it was no accident." Alistair stammered, flushing when the golem's gaze fell upon him. "We… we… were presented with it as a reward."

"…I see." The golem said. "So I am its property now then, am I?"

"I…er…" The man faltered, looking to Mjolnir for help. None of them had expected the golem to have a mind of its own. Taking ownership of it now seemed… improper.

"No," Mjolnir said slowly, "We do not own you-"

The golem interrupted, "But it does have the rod, does it not?" It paused, seeming confused, "I am awake so it… must?"

"Yes," The elf bent down and retrieved the rod from the ground. "But I think it is broken."

"Impossible!" The golem scoffed, sounding remarkably like Morrigan. "Order me to do something. Go on!"

"Very well," Mjolnir said. "Walk over to me, please."

Though the golem's face did not change, the shock was apparent in its voice, "Nothing! I feel nothing! I feel no compulsion to carry out its command…! I suppose this means it didn't lie after all. The control rod is broken."

"Great…" Alistair muttered, though only Mjolnir heard him.

"So, golem, what do you intend to do now?" Morrigan asked with a most peculiar smirk on her lips.

The golem took one ground-shuddering step forward and everyone but Mjolnir and Yggdrasil moved backward. "I suppose if I cannot be commanded this means I have… free will, yes? It is simply… what should I do? I have no memories beyond watching this village for so long. I have no purpose. I find myself at a bit of a loss." It seemed to be speaking more to itself than answering Morrigan's question. After a pause, it continued, turning to look at Mjolnir. "What about it? It must've awoken me for some reason, no? What did it intend to do with me?"

"Alistair and I are Grey Wardens." The elf replied. "We require aid in ending the Blight."

"Ah, it speaks of crushing darkspawn heads, yes?" The golem nodded. "The darkspawn are an evil that must be destroyed, it's true. Though not as evil as the birds… and their damned droppings."

With great difficulty, Leliana stifled a giggle by pressing her lips hard together. She felt it wouldn't be prudent to laugh at this moment.

"I suppose I only have two options, do I not? Go with it or… go elsewhere?"

Morrigan snorted, but Mjolnir nodded and replied, "Yes."

"Hmm… very well, I shall join you. Crushing the skulls of darkspawn does sound like fun."

"We will be glad for your help." The Dalish replied.

"Do you have a name?" Leliana asked kindly.

The golem turned its impassive face toward the woman and Zevran was forcibly reminded of Mjolnir.

"I am called Shale." The golem said.

"Well… at least I don't have to act as battering ram anymore." Alistair said quietly to Leliana, who wasn't able to suppress a giggle this time.

* * *

**TBC**


	19. Chapter 19

_I think I shall call them… painted elf and… serious painted elf._ Shale thought to herself, looking from Zevran to Mjolnir.

The golem was rather enjoying her freedom so far, walking at the back of the group, looking them over and thinking up nicknames for them as she saw fit. She had thought of one for everyone except for the human male and—

Shale looked down at the Mabari that walked beside her. The animal felt her looking and peered up at her, wagging his stubby tail.

"Over the years, many of your kind have urinated on me." Shale said. "If I catch it lifting one leg in my direction I will crush its tiny square head."

The hound snorted softly, as if the idea of dogs urinating on statues was ridiculous.

"Hmph," Shale grunted.

The golem fell silent, letting her mind wander. Whenever she did this, flashes of images of her time before standing immobile in Honnleath went through her mind. She remembered a very fussy, very bossy, little weasel of a man - a mage. There was also… a flash of light and something that could have been pain… and then an image of squishing the fussy mage's head between her hands. As always, these images quickly faded away and Shale again looked up at the group walking in front of her. She didn't see the world as others did, in vivid color. She saw in varying hues of white and poisonous blue. It was foggy apparently (the swamp witch kept complaining of it), but Shale couldn't see it. The golem could sense things most others couldn't, however.

_The crystals that the fussy mage imbedded in my flesh._ Shale thought absently.

It was her crystals that allowed her to sense the full scale of the swamp witch's power and it made Shale glad that her control rod was broken. She wouldn't want another bossy, power-hungry mage ordering her around. Shale's pale, glowing eyes moved to the human man and the serious painted elf. Both of them were slowly being eaten alive by a darkness that the crystals could not fully See. The darkspawn taint no doubt. The elf was also being blighted by something similar to the darkness, but not exact. It resided in his shoulder. How very odd…

A soft growl interrupted her musings and Shale looked down at the dog walking beside her. The animal's ears were flat against his skull and his fangs were bared. He was growling at something up ahead. The golem lifted her head and saw the painted elf was sneaking up on the serious painted elf. This should prove to be interesting, yes…

The morning had dawned grey and chilly and the group had awakened to find themselves engulfed in a thick grey fog. They pressed on anyway, wanting to make up for the time they'd lost, trusting that Mjolnir, Sten, and Yggdrasil's instincts would guide them. So far, their trust had been well-placed, they'd just come through the valley where Zevran had set his trap. Speaking of—

Mjolnir whirled around and Zevran came to a dead stop, an easy grin on his lips.

"Warden," He smirked.

"What are you doing?" Mjolnir asked.

"Sneaking up behind you, naturally," Zevran replied, rather suddenly aware that the Dalish's dagger was pressed against his armor-encased ribs.

"That, I know." The dagger pressed a little more insistently into Zevran's side. "_Why _are you sneaking up behind me?"

"What is going on? Have we stopped?" Leliana's voice asked from somewhere in back.

"Keep moving," Mjolnir told her, not taking his eyes off Zevran.

The assassin continued to grin, "I was merely seeing if I _could_ sneak up on you, Warden. I have already crept up behind our prince and the lovely Morrigan without their notice. The Qunari heard me, however, as did our Sister of the Cloth."

"I am not surprised." Mjolnir replied.

"Is everything all right?" It was Alistair's voice coming from the dense fog this time.

"Yes," The Dalish replied. The dagger's point came up swiftly, prodding under Zevran's chin. "This behaviour does not inspire confidence."

Mjolnir then sheathed his dagger, turned, and continued walking. Zevran, still grinning, followed after him, though not trying to sneak up on the other elf this time.

By midday, the fog had been burned off by the sun and the group had stopped among a copse of beautiful ashen trees adorned with bright red leaves to have lunch. Mjolnir sat apart from his companions, cross-legged on a fallen tree trunk. Yggdrasil lay on the ground in front of him, chewing on a bone that Sten had given him. The Dalish had his mother's journal open on his lap and he munched absently on a hunk of bread as his eyes roved over his mother's tight, clean script.

_Once more, I am fascinated by differences between Abasi and Sabrae clan. Sabrae doesn't have any Rangers, not even their Halla Keeper seems to hear the halla the way I do, and Mjolnir was quite surprised when he found me playing with bear cubs in the woods. Naturally, he feared that the mother bear would maul me. He was even more surprised when I explained that I had, in a way, asked for her permission to play with her cubs and received it._

Mjolnir ran his fingers over the page, imagining that he could see his mother's hand writing these words. It seemed he had inherited something else from his mamae. As long as he kept it simple, he could communicate with animals as well. 'Rangers' his mother had called them. It sounded like there was more than one in his mother's original clan, that it was a more common gift among the southern clans.

At his feet, Yggdrasil began to growl. Mjolnir looked up and saw that Zevran was approaching him. The Dalish closed the journal and brushed the crumbs from his hands, silently watching the former Crow approach. He found the blond to be perplexing and also… a bit fascinating. He had never met an elf quite like Zevran before. Of course, the Dalish told stories of the city elves, how they were 'flat-eared thieves and brutes' and had 'thrown away their elvhen heritage', but (as always) Mjolnir was not content to just blindly accept whatever he was told.

"Yggdrasil," The Dalish said softly, reaching down to scratch the hound on the head.

The Mabari stopped growling, but he glared darkly at Zevran. It was quite clear that Yggdrasil didn't want the blond anywhere near his Master.

"Warden," Zevran smirked. "The others are ready to get underway."

Mjolnir nodded, curious eyes looking the other elf up and down. Though Zevran was an assassin, and probably someone the Hahren Paivel would have used as an example of a 'flat-eared brute', there was a certain… gentleness to him. It was most curious.

The others were packing up their gear while Leliana buried their garbage. Their newest member, Shale, stopped looking for birds to coax down from the trees and squish. Mjolnir had never known someone with such an intense hatred for one creature before. Though he could understand why the golem hated birds so much, being defecated on for thirty years couldn't have been very amusing.

Pulling himself away from his musings, the Dalish packed up the remains of his own meagre lunch and tucked his mother's journal back into the pouch on his belt. He felt Zevran's eyes on the bound rice paper before it was tucked away, but the blond said nothing.

"Come on, slowpokes!" Leliana called to them before turning and following after Alistair.

Mjolnir set off with Yggdrasil at his side and eventually fell in step with Sten at the front of the group. Zevran fell back so he could walk beside Morrigan. The Dalish heard Zevran flirting with her in his usual way, casually brushing off the woman's acid-edged replies. The dark-haired elf shook his head. He did not understand the assassin that seemed to revel in failure. Not one bit.

The forest was still no source of comfort and peace to Mjolnir. No birds sang and no animals moved through the underbrush. The air was eerily still and smelled of death. It was as though he were back in the woods surrounding Sabrae clan's camp and, when he closed his eyes, he could just imagine that he was walking with Merrill and Fenarel or Faelwen… or Tamlen. Mjolnir frowned slightly. He sorely wanted to smell crisp, fresh air again. He wanted to hear the quiet footsteps of deer and the shrill call of a blue jay. He wanted… he wanted to be hunting with Tamlen again. He wanted to be with his clan, with Ashalle. The Dalish's blighted shoulder gave an angry little throb, bringing him back to reality. He sighed softly and opened his eyes, taking in the sight of the cold, dead, grey forest.

"This is what it does, the Blight." Sten said suddenly.

The elf was about to reply when white hot pain burned in his wounded shoulder. He grunted softly and, faintly in the distance, there was a high, pig-like, squealing cry.

"Shrieks," Alistair said. "Four or five of them…"

"Five," Mjolnir said, stiffly unslinging his bow.

The man frowned, "Mjolnir, are you-"

A cry interrupted Alistair, but this time it was not a Shriek. It was a man's voice, strained and terrified, "Oh Maker! H-help! Someone! Please, help me!"

The Shrieks sounded their strange calls again and the man screamed. Mjolnir didn't hesitate and he charged off through the trees, bow ready. Boughs dusted with glittering frost slapped at the elf's face and upper body, but he did not slow down. The closer he got to the darkspawn, these Shrieks, the worse his shoulder ached. The Dalish wondered if his arm would one day simply drop off like a rotten slab of meat.

There was a short, sharp, yip of pain through the thicket of trees ahead. Whoever this man was, he was running out of time. The elf jumped a fallen log. He could hear his companions running along behind him.

Mjolnir ducked under a heavy pine bough and slowed his jog just slightly. Ahead, he could see five tall figures standing around a dark shape lying on the forest floor. He heard the others slowing behind him and, without turning around, motioned for them to flank the darkspawn. His companions moved off quietly through the trees and Yggdrasil came up beside him. Together, they swiftly but silently moved forward.

For some reason, the Shrieks reminded Mjolnir a bit of insects. They were very tall and hunched over, their heads rather bulbous with pointed ears and jutting lower jaws flanked by thin, finger-like mandibles. The shape on the ground, Mjolnir saw, was a man. Blood poured from a nasty wound on his abdomen. They were too late…

But then the man stirred feebly and groaned. One of the Shrieks raised its clawed hand to strike and Mjolnir didn't hesitate, he planted an arrow right behind its ear. The darkspawn let out a deafening screech, pivoted on the spot, and fell to the ground dead. The remaining monsters screamed and turned as one toward Mjolnir, their protruding lower jaws slathered with foamy saliva. Yggdrasil bared his fangs and charged forward. Mjolnir shot another arrow, hitting one of the darkspawn in the chest.

The ground shook slightly as Shale ran out of the trees, grabbing one of the Shrieks from behind, crushing the monster's head in its hands with a sound like many dry, snapping twigs. The darkspawn with the arrow in its chest swiped at Sten, claws raking over the Qunari's armor. Before Sten could retaliate, Zevran appeared seemingly out of nowhere and drove his dagger into the base of the darkspawn's skull.

Yggdrasil, growling and snapping, knocked one of the two remaining Shrieks to the ground and ripped out its throat. Leliana took care of the last with a well-placed arrow between its beady eyes.

Except for the harsh breathing of the man on the ground, the forest was again silent. The Dalish moved swiftly to the man's side, grabbing a swatch of cloth from his pack and pressing it to the wound on the man's abdomen. Blood, warm and thick, seeped between the elf's fingers in seconds.

"Can you heal him?" Mjolnir asked, looking up at Morrigan.

The woman snorted softly, "Certainly not. I am no healer. Even if I were, this man is too close to death for magic."

"I am afraid that Morrigan is right." Leliana said. "There is nothing we can do for him, except make him comfortable…"

Alistair sighed softly; already weary of the constant death that surrounded them. He moodily nudged a darkspawn with his toe, quashing the urge to give it a solid kick. The man on the ground moaned in pain. Alistair looked over at him and froze. He… he recognized this man!

"Gilead!" Alistair gasped.

Mjolnir's gaze fell upon him, "You know this man?"

"Yes," The man replied, moving to sit on his knees beside Mjolnir. "He was at Ostagar. He was one of Cailan's attendants! How did he get way out here?"

Gilead, lying among the dead leaves on the cold forest floor, peered blearily up at the two men leaning over him. His mind, weak from exhaustion, blood loss, and pain, gave him a feeble prod. These two had been at Ostagar and they were only ones left. He had something important to tell them. He'd been imprisoned and tortured over this Important Thing, only having escaped from Bann Loren's dungeons a few days ago. What… what was it…?

"War…dens…?" He asked.

"Yes," The dark-haired elf replied.

"Would you like some water?" A redheaded woman asked, kneeling on his other side.

"No," He shook his head weakly. He stared at the blond man kneeling beside him. He… he knew this man; he was the king's- something in Gilead's mind finally clicked into place. He remembered. "Cai… Cailan. Maric. K-key…" The words stuttered and stuck. He swallowed thickly and tried again. "Maric's sword. Cailan going to give it… Duncan. Gave me key… key to chest. Safe-keeping."

The woman was gawping down at him like he'd grown a third eye. The elf was silent, solemn. Alistair, the only one whose name Gilead knew, was staring at him with a strange sort of frozen expression on his face.

"Sword is… special." A pain roiled through his gut and Gilead moaned. "Help. Fight. Darkspawn." He managed to grit out through clenched teeth.

"What do you mean?" Alistair asked.

Gilead ignored him. His vision was starting to grey out and he knew the end was rapidly approaching. "Was scared. Buried key… buried it. In camp. Beneath statue of… of… Andras…te…"

Alistair's stomach churned as he watched Gilead exhale his last breath. Mjolnir murmured something in elvish and gently closed the man's eyes.

Alistair's mind was reeling, a sword that could aid them in the fight against the darkspawn? Was that possible? If it was, why didn't Cailan use it himself? Or give it to Duncan sooner? Maybe it didn't even exist at all. Gilead was starved, tortured, and half dead… maybe he was delirious. But… what if it was real? As Mjolnir had pointed out several times, they needed all the help they could get.

Biting the inside of his lip, the man finally looked up to meet Mjolnir's steady gaze. "What now?"

"You cannot be considering returning to Ostagar!" Morrigan let out a small burst of laughter. "The man was obviously delirious!"

"No," Mjolnir replied, looking back down at Gilead. "His gaze was clear."

"How far would this journey be?" Leliana asked.

"Five days," Alistair replied. "Maybe longer, it will have snowed in the south by now and that might slow us down."

"Have we not wasted enough time already?" Sten said.

"Might I point out that the last time you 'wasted time', you gained yourselves a handsome elf and a sturdy golem." Zevran piped up.

"A good point," Leliana giggled.

"And if the key has already been discovered?" Morrigan asked icily.

"I can pick locks." Zevran grinned.

Mjolnir looked up at the Antivan then back at Alistair. Normally, the others would await his decision, but this time the elf felt it had to be Alistair's choice. There was a personal note to this quest.

Alistair hesitated, chewed his lip. "…I trust Gilead's word. Let's return to Ostagar."

Mjolnir nodded and Morrigan let out an irritated sigh, shaking her head.

"'tis a mistake," She said.

"Never heard that one from you before," Was Alistair's sarcastic reply.

"What are we to do about him?" Leliana interrupted, nodding solemnly at Gilead's body.

"The ground here is too hard for burial." Mjolnir said.

"Dalish… bury their dead?" Alistair asked with a guilty fascination.

The elf nodded, "Yes. A tree is then planted-" A lump unexpectedly formed in Mjolnir's throat and the image of his fingers sifting through dirt, digging a hole at the head of Tamlen's grave, flittered through his mind.

"Mjolnir…?" Leliana's voice was just above a whisper.

The Dalish swallowed, his throat clicked. "…A tree is planted so that life may spring anew."

The redhead smiled softly, "That is a lovely thought."

"Yes," Mjolnir agreed.

"We… build what we call funeral pyres and burn our dead, releasing their spirit to the Maker." Leliana said, looking around at the trees. "Will this wood burn?"

Silently, Mjolnir nodded. Unsurprisingly, Morrigan tsked softly behind him.

While Morrigan and Sten watched with grim disapproval, Mjolnir and the others gathered wood for Alistair so he could build a makeshift funeral pyre. Shale proved to be a great help in this matter, as the golem could carry heavy loads of fallen tree trunks and branches without trouble. It wasn't long before they had a decent-sized pyre. Gently, Alistair and Mjolnir lifted Gilead and set him on the pyre. Morrigan refused to help so Mjolnir had to circle around it, striking his flint and steel together, lighting tinder with meagre sparks.

Once orange flames began to lick and dance over the logs, Mjolnir moved back to stand with the others. They were standing down-wind, but the smell of burning hair and flesh soon wafted to Mjolnir, making him feel nauseous. He stayed, nevertheless, standing sentinel beside Alistair.

Alistair started blankly into the yellow-orange flames, wondering again if going back to Ostagar was a good idea. What if the sword didn't exist at all? Or what if it was just a plain, ordinary sword? What if the chest was gone or destroyed? What if… he was going for the wrong reason? He hadn't thought of Maric as his father for a very, very long time, but there was always a small part of him that wanted something that had belonged to Maric. He had a trinket from his mother (given to him by Eamon before he was shipped off to the monastery), a Chantry sun pendant that he wore around his neck along with his Warden's Oath. A small piece of the family he never knew… and it felt lonely, incomplete, without something of his… of Maric's.

Finally weakened by the fire, the pyre collapsed, engulfing what was left of Gilead's body in flames. Alistair grimaced and, without a word, turned and walked away. He didn't stop walking until he could no longer hear the crackle of flames. He stared into the seemingly never-ending woods. The bright sun they had enjoyed earlier had been swallowed by blanket of grey clouds, giving the forest a slightly surreal look. Alistair shivered.

The man felt Mjolnir come up beside him and snuck a look at the elf out the corner of his eye. The Dalish wasn't looking at him; he stared into the darkening woods. The pair stood in silence for a long time before Mjolnir spoke.

"I know what it is like, to be raised by another." He said. "I also know what it is like, to want something that belonged to your kin. If the sword is not there, I will only regret its loss and not the time spent attempting to retrieve it."

Alistair's mouth opened slightly, but he had no idea how to respond. It never ceased to amaze him, how someone who said so few words could make you feel so much better. Expectedly, Mjolnir didn't need a vocalization of his thoughts. He merely looked at Alistair and gave him a smile so swift and fleeting that the man would wonder later if the elf had smiled at all, then the Dalish turned and walked away.

* * *

**TBC**


	20. Chapter 20

"You have noticed our predicament, yes?"

Mjolnir, not looking up from what he was working on, nodded. They were three days into their journey to Ostagar, the weather getting progressively worse and worse the further south they went. Yesterday they had finally seen what Alistair had warned them about - winter had come to the far south, the distant horizon had been glaringly, chillingly, white.

And because Mjolnir _had _noticed their little predicament, he'd suggested that they set up camp. They still had an hour or so of light left in the sky, but the others agreed to make camp. The Dalish thought perhaps that none of them were in any rush to brave the snow and howling winds. Thus they'd set up their tents and built a fire in a small clearing. Silent, frost-dusted pines encircled them. Distantly, Mjolnir could hear the roar of a powerful river. The sound made him feel slightly homesick.

"We are about to enter a frozen wasteland and neither of us has the proper wear." Zevran smirked, sitting beside Mjolnir.

Yggdrasil, lying on Mjolnir's other side enjoying the fire's warmth, growled at Zevran.

"We will." Mjolnir replied, absently scratching Yggdrasil behind the ears and dropping something into Zevran's lap. "That is yours."

Bemused, Zevran held up whatever item Mjolnir had given him. His eyebrows rose slightly. The elf had turned one of Alistair's blankets into a hooded cloak. It was a muted blue and edged with silver that didn't quite match up in places because Mjolnir had to cut it and re-sew it.

"I have enough rabbit skins to make both of us some gloves." Mjolnir explained, threading the bone needle he held pinched between his fingers. "Leliana and Alistair had spare blankets that they did not need. It is a trick my clan would use if animal skins were scarce." The Dalish paused and looked up at Zevran, puzzled by the blond's uncharacteristic silence. Seeing the slightly confused look on the assassin's face, he asked, "Is there something wrong with it?"

The faint surprised faded quickly, replaced by Zevran's usual easy smirk. "Of course not, Warden - it has just been such a very long time since I received a gift."

"It is not a gift." Mjolnir said gruffly, frowning down at the unfinished mittens in his lap.

"No…?" Zevran grinned.

"In Dalish clans, gifts are given only to the one you are bonded to." The Dalish's frown deepened. What was the human word for it? Alistair had told him. "…Marid?"

"Married," The blond corrected with a chuckle. "I see. Well, I assure you I won't confuse this for a wedding gift. Let's just call it a gift between comrades, yes?"

"It is a necessity that I provided for you." Mjolnir replied shortly, tying off the end of the thread and starting to sew.

"I can think of a few other necessities that you can provide." Zevran purred.

Unsurprisingly, Mjolnir didn't respond, the Warden had a tendency to become deaf and mute whenever someone flirted with him.

Zevran leaned back, resting his weight on his hands, smirking slightly as he glanced around their camp. Morrigan strolled by with an armful of firewood and gave Zevran a look that suggested he resembled something smelly one found on the bottom of their boot. He watched her go – the woman had made her own little camp up some ways away. She held a big secret beneath that beautiful and haughty exterior of hers. Everything about her, her posture, her expression, became quite weary when she thought no one was looking. Something was weighing her down.

Zevran's head lolled and he looked over at Yggdrasil. The hound took a page out of Morrigan's book and bared his fangs at the elf. Without looking up, Mjolnir settled his hand on the hound's neck, patting him, calming him. The blond's expression became thoughtful as he studied Mjolnir's profile. Morrigan wasn't the only one who was being weighed down by something. Whether he noticed or not (and sometimes Zevran thought that he didn't notice), the Dalish always favored his right shoulder. Mjolnir wasn't just weighed down by pain; there was guilt in there too. He couldn't begin to guess as to what Mjolnir felt guilty about, however.

By the time Mjolnir finished sewing everything he and Zevran would need, the sun had set and the stars twinkled a bright, frosty white in the sky above. His bad shoulder had been aching all day, but now it was throbbing like a rotten tooth. The elf flexed his hand, frowning. He was determined that this wound would not take away his abilities, his prowess with a bow and his enjoyment of doing delicate work like carving and sewing.

There was a crackle of branches breaking underfoot and Alistair stepped into the firelight. The man was soaked from the chest down, shivering wildly, and carrying four trout, two in each hand.

"I've g-g-got s-s-s-s-supper." He said.

Leliana bit down on a giggle, "Did you walk right into the river?"

Alistair nodded and sat down by the fire, still shivering, "S-s-stood there f-for n-n-nearly half an-n hour, c-c-caught all these b-b-by hand."

Mjolnir smiled briefly. He could have shown Alistair how to make a fishing pole and which bait to use, but he said nothing. He was glad to see the man showing some initiative.

"M-maker!" Alistair exclaimed, throwing a blanket over his lap. "I th-think even m-my t-teeth are f-f-frozen!"

"Are you quite certain that it wasn't your brain that has frozen solid?" Morrigan's voice asked in the growing darkness, dripping with false concern.

Alistair ignored her and stretched his hands toward the fire. Yggdrasil got up from his spot beside Mjolnir and trotted over to the man, lying down beside him, giving him some warmth.

"Th-thanks, b-b-boy," Alistair smiled.

The man's smile faded somewhat as he looked over at Mjolnir, the elf's skin had a greyish cast again and his eyes were like dark pits. Once the Change had completed, Mjolnir's appetite had dropped right off. Usually the Dalish just pushed his food around, ate a few bites, and buried the rest. He wasn't sleeping much either, less than what was usual even for a Warden. Alistair rubbed his hands together, bringing warmth and feeling back into them. He wondered if something had gone wrong with Mjolnir's Change since the elf had been infected beforehand. Alistair looked up and Leliana, sitting across the fire from him, caught his eye then subtly inclined her head toward Mjolnir. She was worried, too. The man sighed softly. More than ever, he wished that Duncan was still with them.

While Alistair got warm, Mjolnir took one of the trout and the templar's knife. He made a slit in the fish's belly, frowning at the ragged cut Alistair's knife made. He swept his thumb over the blade - it caught on his skin, it stung, and it drew a bit of blood.

"Mjolnir…what…?" Alistair was staring at him as though fearing for his sanity.

"This knife," He flipped it, holding the pommel out to Alistair. "You should take care of this as well you do your sword. It should be so sharp that a cut on skin is not even felt."

"Good advice," Zevran grinned, stepping into the firelight and feeding a few logs to the dwindling flames.

Alistair shot a brief glare at the assassin, taking his knife back from Mjolnir. He wiped the blade clean then dug a whetstone out of his pack and started sharpening. The Dalish got out his own knife and began gutting and cleaning the fish. It wasn't long before the camp was filled with the scent of cooking trout.

Morrigan's stomach rumbled loudly, but she didn't even turn to face the elf and his band of merry fools. She could feel Mjolnir staring over at her and refused to acknowledge him. The tantalizing smell of fish wafted over to her and her stomach growled even louder. Grimacing, resolute, she stirred the little pot of stew she had bubbling. Almost ready-

"Morrigan, would you like some fish?"

It was the "sister", standing beside her with a thick-cut portion of trout on a wooden plate.

"Do you not have eyes?" Morrigan asked. "I have my own provisions."

Leliana raised her eyebrows slightly but she didn't seem offended by the rebuff, as she normally would be.

"All right then."

She turned and walked away. Morrigan stared after her and, of course, her gaze was caught by the elf's. No doubt he had sent Leliana over. The woman tutted and turned back to her stew. The dim light of her small fire illuminated her tired face as she stirred, lost in thought. She had been quite confident before leaving the Korcari Wilds, but now… she wasn't so sure if she would be able to accomplish what she had set out to do. The elf didn't trust her and she knew that the harder she tried to change that, the more mistrustful he would become. It would have to be Alistair. The very thought made her nauseous.

The trout was wonderful, perfectly cooked, tender and flaky, but Mjolnir's stomach could barely handle the two small bites he forced himself to eat. His gut roiled and his shoulder throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He set his plate on the ground in front of Yggdrasil. The hound looked up at him and whined softly.

"I cannot eat, my friend. You have it." Mjolnir said quietly.

But the hound refused to eat and he pushed the plate closer to Mjolnir with his nose. More pain, this time a sharp jab between his eyes, assailed the elf. He patted Yggdrasil on the head and stood up, slinging his bow and quiver across his back.

"…Where are you off to?" Alistair asked hesitantly.

Humans were endlessly curious, Mjolnir thought. They always wanted to know what you were doing, where you were going, who you were with - it was most puzzling.

"I need to collect my thoughts." He replied, leaving the warmth and light of the fire for the cold darkness of the forest.

This forest was no different from the others. It was unnaturally silent, everything had fled or been overwhelmed by the horde. Mjolnir walked without really thinking about where he was going. His shoulder was on fire and the pain between his eyes was beginning to spread outward. It felt like he was receiving his vallaslin again, only this time someone was carving it into his skull. The elf stopped walking, eyes closing and breath slowing. A cold wind blew a stray hair off his forehead and brought the sound of the river to his ears. He opened his eyes. He knew where he was going now.

The river roared, spilling over two small waterfalls into churning rapids. Even in the wan moonlight, Mjolnir's keen eyes saw Alistair's footprints set into the sandy dirt. Undoubtedly he had walked along the bank until the river widened out and the current calmed.

The Dalish followed Alistair's prints, nimbly weaving around them. Amongst his clan, one did not erase another's footprints with their own if at all possible. It was considered bad luck for the one whose footprints were erased. It was a superstition, not something Mjolnir would normally believe in, but… things were different now.

As he predicted, the river widened out. It was so wide, in fact, that he could barely see the other side. Mjolnir found a suitable spot and began to strip his armor off piece by piece, piling it on a large chunk of rock wedged deep into the sandy shore. He stripped off his boots and shorts as well then propped his bow and quiver against the rock. He hesitated then decided to leave his dagger and knives with his bow.

Completely nude, he stood on the shore and pulled the leather tie from the end of his braid, combing out the strands. His hair was the longest it had ever been, it nearly fell to the middle of his back once unbraided.

Mjolnir waded into the river, inhaling sharply as the water rose up around his waist. The river was bitingly cold; he wouldn't be able to stay in the water long. He waded in until the pebbled bottom dropped away and he dove beneath the surface. His bad shoulder knotted painfully in protest, but he ignored it. Mjolnir swam to a collection of boulders jutting out in the middle of the river and sat on one of the submerged rocks, blighted shoulder beneath the waterline. He brushed some hair out of his eye and just sat, letting the gentle current slowly take the pain and tension out of his body. The elf closed his eyes, listening to the faraway sound of the waterfalls.

He and Tamlen had been on the bank of a river when they'd shared their first kiss. It had been an unbearably hot summer and they'd been hunting all day, carrying their kills on their backs. Sweating and reeking of blood, they had come across a clear, calm river and hastily stripped off for a quick swim. They were reclining on the shore, drying in the sun, when Tamlen had leaned over him and softly pressed their mouths together. Mjolnir was slightly befuddled at first. Before then, he hadn't thought of Tamlen (or anyone, really) that way. But… he found that he'd liked the feeling of Tamlen's mouth very much and pulled the blond down for a much longer embrace.

A sharp, nauseating pain shot through Mjolnir's head, dashing his memories to pieces. His eyes flew open and, unseen in the woods, something growled. Mjolnir slipped quietly into the water and began to swim toward shore. The growl sounded again, much nearer. There would be no time to put his armor on, but he had to get to his bow.

More blinding agony tore through his skull and suddenly the elf knew there was only one enemy in the woods, but it was a very large enemy. It was the darkspawn sense, he realized, at the forefront of his mind instead of the faint whisper at the back of his mind that he had experienced before.

There was an almighty crash as the darkspawn – it had to be an Ogre, only Ogres got that big – knocked over a tree somewhere within the forest. Mjolnir wondered why he hadn't heard it coming; he hadn't been that deep in thought…

The shore, his weapons, inched closer and closer. His shoulder, numbed by the freezing water, only throbbed faintly, but it felt like his skull was soon going to burst open. He hoped the sense wasn't always this loud, this painful.

The Dalish's feet finally found purchase on the riverbed and he moved stealthily toward shore. Another tree fell, this one closer; Mjolnir saw the shadow of its outline as it crashed to the ground and the puff of frost and dirt it sent up. He frowned. Something on shore, tucked in with his armor, was shining a faint blue. What-

_No time! No time!_

The elf rushed up on shore, grabbing his bow and quiver just as the trees in front of him seemed to simply explode outward. Splinters of wood and rock pelted Mjolnir, cutting his bare skin. An Ogre, bigger than the one they had battled at Ostagar, stood in the gap, its chest heaving. Mjolnir didn't hesitate. He dove quickly out of the way as the creature's massive fists slammed down on the ground where he had been standing seconds before. Rolling, more stones cutting his flesh, Mjolnir got to his feet and quickly fired off two arrows. One struck the beast in the chest; the other imbedded itself in the monster's cheek.

The Ogre roared and Mjolnir was very nearly driven to his knees by the pain that jolted through his head, the creature's voice in his mind, screaming for his blood. His vision doubled, tripled. Mjolnir shakily dodged another attack, grunting in pain when the Ogre's claws caught in his long hair and ripped out a chunk of it. Blindly, Mjolnir let three more arrows fly. Two hit their mark, biting into the beast's ankle. The last arrow flew into the woods and thunked into a tree. It had been a long time since Mjolnir had missed a shot.

The ground shook as the Ogre lowered its head and charged. The elf leapt to the side and ducked behind a rock. His head was beginning to calm down somewhat, his vision starting to clear. Faintly, he heard a dog barking. Yggdrasil was coming, probably with everyone else running along behind him. No doubt they had heard all the noise.

Mjolnir had stayed still just a fraction too long and one of the Ogre's massive hands slammed into him, sending him flying through the air. He landed hard and felt Fenarel's bow snap beneath him, splinters digging deep into his chest. There was no time to mourn the loss of yet another invaluable Dalish weapon, the Ogre was bearing down on him; he could smell its fetid breath. Everything aching again, Mjolnir rolled to his feet as the creature made a grab for him. He slipped through its grasp, its claw raking down his hip, and he ran for his dagger.

As he reached the rock with his armor on it, Yggdrasil bounded onto the scene with his ears laid flat and fangs bared. Mjolnir shoved his armor unceremoniously to the ground to get to the sheath buried beneath it. He stopped dead, struck by what he found. The dagger that Sandal had made for him… it was what had been glowing earlier, the runes carved into the blade shining a faint blue. Yggdrasil yelped pitifully, breaking Mjolnir out of his reverie. He grabbed the dagger and was nearly stopped dead again. The weapon was pulsing faintly; it felt like he was holding someone's heart in his hand. An arrow sailed over the elf's head and struck the Ogre right beneath the eye. Leliana, out of breath from trying to keep up with Yggdrasil, was firing arrows as quickly as she could. Gripping the strange dagger tightly, Mjolnir ran back into the fray, cutting the back of the Ogre's hand as it swiped at Yggdrasil.

"Darkspawn. They just seem to crop up everywhere, don't they?" Alistair asked, running up and raising his shield to block a particularly heavy blow the Ogre had aimed at Mjolnir.

A heavy bolt of lightning struck the creature in the chest, sending it reeling backward. Morrigan stood at a distance, using whatever spells she could when there was an opening. Mjolnir darted out from behind Alistair's shield and slashed at the Ogre's belly, trying to make a wound big enough to spill its guts. Soon Sten was beside him, dodging attacks and making cuts of his own. Alistair blocked another hit, but was knocked to the ground. There was no sign of Zevran until suddenly the blond dropped down seemingly out of nowhere and drove his dagger into the Ogre's neck. The monster roared in anger and pain, grabbing a not-quite-quick-enough Zevran by the leg and tossing him into the woods like a ragdoll. Leliana ran into the forest after him.

A sizeable boulder struck the Ogre in the chest and Sten and Mjolnir scattered as they were pelted with shards of rock. Shale picked up another rock and threw it at the creature, this time knocking it down. As the Ogre struggled to get up, a bloody hole in its chest, a curious thing was happening - the pulse of Mjolnir's dagger was racing...

The elf frowned briefly and then the light of understanding shone in his eyes. He looked from the dagger to the darkspawn. The pulse, it _was _the monster's heartbeat. That Sandal was surely a talented lad.

The Ogre couldn't get up; it had lost too much blood and was weakening with every second. Shale picked up yet another rock, intent on crushing its skull. As Shale approached the Ogre, the pulse of the dagger began to race even faster - the creature was frightened.

"….Put it out of its misery," Mjolnir said quietly.

Shale brought the rock down on the Ogre's skull once, twice, thrice – crack! The dagger's runes stopped shining and the pulse slowly faded into stillness. Shale grimaced at the bloody rock in its hands and tossed it into the river with a resounding splash. Leliana emerged from the woods with Zevran's arm draped over her shoulders, the elf was limping. Mjolnir could feel warm blood oozing from over a dozen cuts and scrapes on his body.

"Where did it come from?" Leliana asked. "How did we not hear it?"

"There must be a cave around here." Alistair replied. "The darkspawn travel underground as well as over land. They can be quite sneaky at times."

Zevran heard none of this; he was busy looking his fill of naked Dalish elf before the Warden noticed. Mjolnir heard none of it, either. The buzzing that had invaded his mind when he'd first been infected had come back in full force. The dagger dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

Zevran cocked an eyebrow, "…Warden?"

Mjolnir didn't reply. His face drained of its color and his eyes rolled up in his head as his knees buckled. Alistair hurried forward but tripped over Yggdrasil, who had also been rushing toward the elf. Zevran had badly sprained his ankle when he'd landed in the woods, but he limped forward as quickly as he could anyway, practically dragging Leliana along with him. He wasn't fast enough. It was Shale who neatly caught Mjolnir in the crook of one massive stone arm.

* * *

"What's wrong with him? You can heal him, can't you? I know you said you weren't a healer, but you can do something, right?"

Morrigan shot Alistair a withering look and, miraculously, he shut his fool mouth. After making sure the Ogre was truly dead, they carried Mjolnir and his things back to camp and Zevran offered up his tent as a place for Mjolnir to rest. Alistair and Morrigan manoeuvred the Dalish inside and set him down on Zevran's bedroll. No sooner had they set Mjolnir down, Alistair started pelting her with his asinine questions.

"I am not a healer; I know nothing of healing magic." She took her mortar and pestle and some elfroots out of her pouch. "But I can make salves and poultices. They are not as strong as magic, naturally, but the elf is not too badly damaged."

"But…" Alistair's gaze found the furrows on Mjolnir's shoulder.

"That is a tale he must tell you, if he so desires."

Morrigan ground up some elfroots and added a couple of slices of some purplish roots, making a thick, greenish-grey paste. She glanced at Alistair out the corner of her eye. The man was practically hovering over both her and Mjolnir, but thought he wouldn't notice; in her experience, templars were not very observant. Taking a deep breath, she whispered a few words and touched one of the small bleeding wounds on Mjolnir's arm. She wasn't as adept at this spell as her mother, but it still told her what she needed to know – the tainted wound was effecting what the Wardens called the Change, extending it, altering it. She thought Mjolnir had a few more rough weeks ahead of him. It was hard to tell what the end result of this extended Change would be. Perhaps Mjolnir would be stronger than your average Warden or he wouldn't live as long as "regular" Wardens… or possibly nothing at all would come of it. Her mother would know which result to expect; her mother knew things about both Wardens that they probably didn't know themselves – all from a spot of their blood on her fingertips. Frowning slightly, Morrigan wiped her bloodied fingers on her shirt then began applying the salve to Mjolnir's wounds.

"So the Warden is going to be all right?" A new voice asked.

The mage looked up to see Leliana, Zevran, and Yggdrasil peeking into the tent, Sten and Shale were standing behind the trio.

"He will live." Morrigan replied shortly, applying more paste to the elf's wounds. "But I think he should be watched during the night."

The darkness was becoming very familiar to him, but that didn't make it feel any less hostile. He could sense them, entities lurking in the gloom, circling around him.

"It doesn't hurt much anymore."

It was Tamlen, speaking from somewhere behind him. Mjolnir turned, holding his hand out, trying to find him.

"Tamlen…?"

"Not much," Tamlen was behind him again, but the elf hadn't heard any movement. "It only hurts when He speaks, when he sings… it is cold… and lonely."

Mjolnir didn't turn again. He held as still as a hunted animal, staring into the darkness, feeling but not hearing Tamlen coming up behind him.

"Ostagar is dangerous, da'assan."

Cold, cold fingers touched the back of Mjolnir's neck. The touch was so achingly familiar, but the elf still didn't turn around. His heart was pounding, beating a wild tattoo against his ribs.

"He left one of His many generals there." Cool lips brushed against Mjolnir's ear. "It has enjoyed making playthings out of those left behind; nothing pleasant will be found there."

"What of the sword?"

"…It's there, it waits. They cannot go near it. It hurts."

Mjolnir wetted his lips, the question he wanted to ask nearly stuck in his throat. "Tamlen, are you-"

"Mjolnir?"

The Dalish's eyes flew open and he found himself staring at the canvas ceiling of a tent. He was lying on something soft, covered in a blanket and furs. Someone had redressed him in his shorts and a tunic that was much too big for him - it had a faint scent of cheese about it, one of Alistair's shirts then. Yggdrasil, a mountain of fur and warmth, was curled against Mjolnir's side, sleeping soundly. The light had a cold, silvery look to it. It was early morning.

"Mjolnir? Can you hear me?"

Mjolnir blinked as someone leaned over him. It was Alistair, looking tired and grey; stubble dotted his cheeks and chin.

"Yes," He replied.

At the sound of his Dalish Master's voice, Yggdrasil came awake and lifted his head up, licking the elf's face. Mjolnir's fleeting smile touched his lips and he gently pushed the hound away.

"Yes, I am glad to be here too, my friend."

Alistair helped Mjolnir sit up and gave him a waterskin. Mjolnir drank gratefully, the cool water soothing his dry, sore throat.

"The others?" He asked, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. "They are all right?"

Alistair nodded, "Bumps and bruises mostly. Zevran sprained his ankle, but Morrigan gave him a salve for it." The man paused, chewing his lower lip a bit nervously. "How do you feel?"

"Ill," Mjolnir replied. "But I will carry on."

"We can camp for a few days…"

The elf shook his head, "It will not help. This is something that has to run its course."

"Does it have something to do with… well…" Alistair nodded at the elf's blighted shoulder.

"I believe it does."

"Do you… want to talk about it?"

Mjolnir almost refused, but stopped himself, thinking of all the things Alistair had shared with him. Surely the man deserved to know?

"…Speaking is not something I do readily."

"I noticed." Alistair teased lightly.

Mjolnir chuckled, one small "heh", but one would think he had burst into uncontrollable belly-laughter judging by the look of astonishment on Alistair's face. He had been starting to think that the elf never laughed.

"It is a long tale." The Dalish said, patting Yggdrasil on the head when the hound rested his chin on his master's knee.

"I'm all ears." Alistair said.

Mjolnir sighed softly and began to tell his tale. He left nothing out. He told Alistair that Tamlen had been his lover, not just his best friend as he had to pretend to be within the clan. He spoke of their hunting trip, the lack of wildlife in the forest and the strange behaviour of the animals that remained. The mysterious creature – hindsight told Mjolnir it had been a darkspawn of some kind – that had slithered by them unseen, Tamlen learning of Mjolnir's bond-mate-to-be and running off into the woods, Mjolnir being attacked by a blighted wolf when he went to find his love-

Mjolnir paused, his mouth tightening. Both Alistair and Yggdrasil were very still, watching the elf raptly. The light in the tent had brightened considerably and it was snowing outside, Mjolnir could smell it. The Dalish closed his eyes, continued his story.

Finding out the truth about his parents, how his father had been murdered and that his mother had abandoned him. Tamlen's comfort, falling asleep in his arms…. waking up to find him gone. Confronting those three humans and finding out about those damned ruins. Not being able to say 'no' to Tamlen (he never could) and foolishly going forward, hoping to find a piece of Dalish history. Instead they had found walking corpses and a blight-addled bear that had clawed Mjolnir's shoulder, leaving a permanent mark that wasn't quite scar, but not quite an open wound either. His brow furrowed as he spoke of the mirror and the strange voice that came from it, the voice that had entranced him… and Tamlen-

He felt Alistair's hand settle on his good shoulder, squeezing it gently. Mjolnir swallowed a lump in his throat and his cursed shoulder gave an angry throb of pain.

"The song in the mirror took Tamlen away." He muttered.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Mjolnir." Alistair said, not quite understanding what the elf meant, but unwilling to press the matter.

Then Duncan came and took Mjolnir away from his clan, from his death. It was a decision that Mjolnir had resented at first, but in the end he was a protector and his clan was in danger. He accepted his duty and put aside his personal desire for his death.

"But seeing what the darkspawn have done… it has all but destroyed my desire to die. These creatures need to be stopped; the Blight needs to be stopped."

"Won't argue with you there," Alistair said.

The pair lapsed into silence, Mjolnir gently stroking Yggdrasil's fur. It had been painful, but also strangely liberating, telling his story. Merely telling Alistair how much Tamlen really meant to him had lifted a great weight off his shoulders.

"…Ma serannas, Alistair, for listening." Mjolnir said finally.

The man smiled, "Any time."

"Fenarel's bow, did you bring it back with you?" The elf asked.

Alistair nodded and pointed to the far corner of the tent where Mjolnir's armor and weapons were piled. "What was left, just some scraps of wood and the string…"

Mjolnir nodded. The bow he was carving wasn't quite finished, but he couldn't go unarmed. He would use Fenarel's string until he could purchase or make his own.

"You're sure you don't want to rest for a day, at least?" Alistair asked.

"I do not wish to sit around and do nothing, have nothing to take my mind off this agony." Mjolnir replied. "I prefer to have something to do, to keep my mind occupied."

"Well… all right, if you think it's best."

The elf nodded and pulled the borrowed tunic over his head. "I believe this is yours."

"Ah, yes." The man's cheeks flushed a bit as he took the offered tunic. "Leliana had to help me dress you… sorry about that."

Mjolnir shrugged in reply, thinking that humans worried about the strangest things.

The elf's indifference seemed to only embarrass Alistair more; his face glowed like the setting sun. "Well, I'll get breakfast going and then we can… carry on. Yeup."

There was a blast of chilled air and bright light as the tent's door flapped and then Alistair was gone.

* * *

**TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

Thank-you to Embrace-Diversity on DevArt for helping me out with a stubborn line in this chapter :)

* * *

By the Maker, it was cold. Alistair clasped at the neck of his hood, trying to pull it taught and protect his ears from the wind. He leaned forward, shivering as he waded through snow that was nearly up to his thighs. Sten charged passed him, wearing the too-small cloak that he'd purchased in Crant. Crant... the village was only a month behind them and yet it felt like it had been years since they'd left.

They were very nearly at the end of their journey to Ostagar, crossing a vast, open plain while a harsh winter wind pulled at their cloaks and numbed exposed skin. Large dark grey clouds hung on the horizon, heavy with snow. Again, Alistair hoped that he hadn't led the others on a wild goose chase. He hoped Maric's sword was worth all this effort. Shading his eyes against the glare of the sun, his gaze found Mjolnir. At the lead, wearing the dark reddish-pink cloak he'd fashioned out of Leliana's blanket, the Dalish and his hound were making a mockery of them all (well, most of them). Mjolnir cut through the deep snow as if it were water and Yggdrasil bounded alongside him, sometimes disappearing into the deeper snowdrifts, but always managing to free himself. The Mabari even had energy to chase a few crows that had been hopping nimbly along the snow crust. Only the golem seemed to be having just as easy a go of it as Mjolnir and Yggdrasil.

Leliana came up beside him. Her teeth were chattering, but she smiled at him. His smile became a startled grimace when she pressed herself to his side, one arm wrapping around his waist.

"W-warmth in n-n-numbers," She explained, giggling even as a wild shiver made her body jerk, "I s-scared poor St-sten away."

Alistair chuckled and, feeling jittery, he wrapped his arm around Leliana's shoulders. Huh. He _did_feel warmer.

Mjolnir forged ahead, glancing back once in a while to make sure everyone was still there. The plain was slowly becoming swampland; the ground was starting to feel springy beneath his boots. In the distance, scraggly trees and wind-worn ruins poked up out of the snow like old bones. The elf scanned the horizon. It should be around here somewhere…

"Ah, there," He murmured to himself.

Half of what used to be some kind of fortress was just visible in the distance. It was a familiar sight. This was the way Morrigan had brought them out of the Wilds.

He came to a stop and there was a great spray of snow as Yggdrasil landed beside him. The hound grinned up at him, face caked with glittering snow. Mjolnir's lips twitched in a small smile and he patted Yggdrasil's head. A plan was formulating in his mind, one he doubted his companions would like very much. However, it had to be done. They couldn't just walk into Ostagar blind, and the assassin needed to be tested.

"Have we stopped for a picnic? Splendid!" Morrigan said sourly, clutching at a ragged cape draped about her shoulders, "Truly, a marvellous idea, elf. I haven't yet frozen solid; stopping here will allow me to do so."

"Would you like my cloak, witch?"

Her venomous look was his answer and he patiently waited for the rest of the group to catch up.

"Get away from me, you mangy beast!" Morrigan cried suddenly. "What would I want with that?"

The Dalish turned to see that Yggdrasil had unearthed a frozen rabbit corpse from somewhere and was eagerly advancing on Morrigan with it clasped in his mouth.

"He likes you." He informed her. The elf's expression and tone were neutral, but inside he felt very amused by his hound's actions. It seemed that Morrigan, despite her efforts to alienate them all, had made a friend. "He wishes to share his food with you."

"Well I certainly don't share that wish. Shoo! Off with you, foul beast!"

Yggdrasil whined a little and his stubbly tail drooped. He clambered up onto a fallen tree and lay down facing away from them, sulkily chewing on his frozen treat.

"You hurt his feelings." Mjolnir said, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

"Please," Morrigan snorted. "That hound is too clever for his own good – manipulative, too. Believe me, I know."

When the rest of the group had caught up to him, Mjolnir turned and pointed to the ruin he'd spotted earlier.

"Camp will be made there. The ruin will give shelter from the wind and the approaching storm."

Alistair frowned, confused, "Why are we making camp already? Those clouds don't look too bad and we still have light left in the day."

"I am taking Zevran and we are scouting ahead." Mjolnir replied. "The rest of you will wait at camp."

Just as he'd expected, there were immediate objections.

"Nonsense," Morrigan scoffed. "You need someone who knows the Wilds."

"You can't trust him!" Alistair said and Yggdrasil growled his agreement with the man.

"I don't understand. Why don't we all go?" Leliana asked.

Zevran ignored them all and moved to stand beside Mjolnir, "I am at your disposal, Warden."

Mjolnir nodded at Zevran then looked around at the rest of his companions, "I have memorized the path we took out of the Wilds. I can find my way back to Ostagar." Alistair opened his mouth to object again and the elf silenced him with a sharp look. "Ostagar is dangerous. It could be overrun. A scouting party is needed and it needs to be small because, if we are caught, there are more of you left to carry on."

A tense silence followed this pronouncement. Mjolnir waited, letting it sink in.

"…He's right." Leliana said finally.

Spluttering, Alistair tentatively set one hand on Mjolnir's shoulder, steering him away from the group. "Why Zevran?" He asked quietly. "Why not me or Shale or Leliana or… even Morrigan!"

"I cannot take you because each group needs someone who can sense the darkspawn. I cannot take anyone else because Zevran made a pledge to me. It is time to see what his word is worth."

"But if it's worth nothing-"

"Wait five days." Mjolnir said. "If we have not returned by that time then I am dead or both of us are dead. Turn back. Do not go to Ostagar."

"But…" Alistair's eyebrows were knitted in worry and his teeth worried at his lower lip.

"Once in a while, one must leap, Alistair."

The man only looked confused, but Mjolnir said no more. He clapped Alistair on the shoulder and headed back to the group. Yggdrasil whined and butted his head against the elf's hip.

"I will be fine, Yggdrasil. You need to stay here. You and Sten have valuable hunting skills."

The hound looked uncertain, but he licked Mjolnir's hand and trotted over to stand next to Morrigan.

"This is foolishness." She said.

"Foolish would be to walk into Ostagar without knowing what awaits us there." Mjolnir replied.

The witch's golden eyes narrowed in what could have been amusement, "You know that is not what I am referring to."

"We should return within two days, but there may be unforeseen events that delay us. However, if we have not returned within five days, you must go on without us." The Dalish said.

Leliana exchanged a worried look with Alistair. Sten folded his arms, but for once his face didn't speak of disapproval. He looked thoughtful, almost approving. Morrigan's eyes were narrowed, looking as though she were trying to figure something out. Shale was the only one who looked bored with the goings-on.

Mjolnir nodded to Zevran, "Let us be on our way."

* * *

Even here, in this immense, frozen swamp, Mjolnir could smell the darkspawn's corruption. He wondered if he would ever be free of their retched stench. Mjolnir glanced at his companion. The assassin didn't seem to notice sour smell of the air, but he did sense that _something_was wrong. Unease showed on his face.

A bitter wind blew, rattling bare tree branches and making dead cattails hiss. Snow fell thick and silent and the sky was starting to darken. They would have to make camp soon or risk becoming lost. A long, lonely howl sounded from somewhere over the ridge that flanked them on the left side. Mjolnir paused, scanning the ridge, but he sensed nothing amiss. Not a corrupted animal, but a lone survivor.

"Perhaps we should stop and make camp." Zevran suggested.

Mjolnir nodded and pointed to a semi-circle of trees ahead, bare of leaves and dusted with snow. "We will need shelter from the wind. This storm is only beginning."

By the time they reached the trees, they could barely see through the falling snow. The wind howled, threatening to tear Zevran's tent from their hands as they struggled to set it up and weigh it down. Shivering, with snow clinging to their hair and cloaks, they crawled into the small, two-man tent. Mjolnir lit the lantern they'd brought with them, grimacing as the simple movement caused a flare of pain in his blighted shoulder. It seemed that the cold was hard on it.

He rubbed his shoulder reflexively as he looked over at Zevran, who was tying the tent flap closed. "Are you uncomfortable with nudity?"

Zevran blinked and looked over his shoulder at Mjolnir, surprised that anyone would ask _him_ such a question. In fact, he couldn't recall a time when anyone had considered his feelings on _any_subject…

"Why, no, my dear Warden," He smirked. "I rather enjoy being naked…"

The Dalish gave him a flat look. "The temperature is going to drop quickly. Sharing body heat would be wise and it is much easier to share body heat if there is no clothing in the way."

"I see," Zevran chuckled, moving to sit across from Mjolnir. "I am at your service."

Mjolnir nodded curtly and began to unpack the bedroll and blankets, wincing each time he had to move his shoulder.

"You know, I can help ease that pain." Zevran said and Mjolnir glanced up at the other elf, his gaze wary. "I was not just taught the art of _massage_, I am also quite skilled at massage."

Mjolnir crooked an eyebrow, "There is a difference?"

Zevran chuckled, "A vast one."

The Dalish flexed his arm, cringed as searing hot pain jabbed him in the shoulder, and gave a tiny nod. "…Very well."

Mjolnir certainly undressed like someone who was casual about nudity. He quickly stripped to the waist without changing his grim expression. There was a certain… unconscious sensually about his movements, however. It was the way he moved, the way he brushed his fingers over bared skin. Zevran's teeth tugged at his lower lip a little as he snuck a peek or two. There wasn't an inch of fat on Mjolnir - he was all well-defined, wiry muscle. His dark skin was peppered with scars Zevran hadn't noticed before. Most were bite and claw marks from animals, but a few were obviously made by weapons. And there, on the Warden's right shoulder, was the cause of all his pain: two asymmetrical marks.

"Turn your back to me," He said with a smirk when Mjolnir caught his eye.

The Dalish did as asked, sweeping his long braid out of the way as Zevran scooted up behind him. The blond leaned in close, studying Mjolnir's wounded shoulder. It was very hard to describe exactly what one was seeing. The marks, just a shade lighter than Mjolnir's skin, were neither scars nor open wounds. The injury didn't look inflamed or infected, but obviously caused Mjolnir a lot of pain. Zevran squinted, leaning in a little closer. There was a very, very fine web of darkened veins around the marks.

"May I touch it?"

Mjolnir nodded silently and Zevran carefully ran his fingers over the furrows. They weren't very long, but quite deep and he felt Mjolnir flinch when he touched them. They didn't feel rough as he thought they would, they were actually much softer than Mjonlir's skin. How peculiar.

"How did you get this wound?"

"From a bear - it was sick, corrupted."

Zevran thought this puzzling bit of information over as he pulled a small vial of oil from his pack.

"What is that?" Mjolnir asked sharply.

The assassin chuckled. Mjolnir was still facing away from him. He hadn't seen Zevran remove the vial from his pack, he had heard it. It would be quite the feat to sneak up on the Warden.

"It is just a bit of massage oil… though it has many uses."

Mjolnir gave a soft, disinterested grunt in reply. Humming softly, Zevran poured a small amount of the oil into his palm and rubbed his hands together.

"So, tell me, Warden, where did you come across this bear of yours?"

The Dalish twitched a little as Zevran's thumb dug into his knotted shoulder, working at a sore muscle.

"…In some ruins."

"And…?" Zevran prompted, moving his thumb in slow circles, working the tension out of Mjolnir's shoulder.

"I killed it." Mjolnir replied flatly.

"Your first kill?"

"Hardly."

There was a small cricking sound as Zevran re-aligned something and Mjolnir grunted in pain, gritting his teeth. He had to admit that the blond was doing some good, though. His shoulder didn't ache quite so fiercely anymore.

"Tell me about your first kill."

"I killed a crazed wolf that had been menacing our Halla."

"Is that all you have killed: wild beasts?"

"…No."

"Ah, then tell me of the first time you killed a man."

"I killed two mages."

Zevran chuckled softly, shaking his head and tucking an errant lock of hair behind his ear, "You are a terrible storyteller, Warden. Come now, the details."

Mjolnir was quiet for so long that Zevran was sure he'd gone into 'silent mode', but the Warden surprised him. "It wasn't long after I became a Hunter. We were camped in the Frostback Mountains. There is plenty of game there in the summer…"

"Go on," Zevran said when the Dalish paused, fingers working on the area where neck met shoulder. He could feel Mjolnir starting to relax.

"Our children were being abducted. The first was snatched right from the camp, from beneath our very noses. Two were taken while they were picking berries in the woods… their mother only looked away for a few minutes. Perhaps the last had thought himself immune to harm, as children often do, and snuck away from the camp for a swim." Mjolnir winced as Zevran hit a particularly tender spot, baring his teeth in a grimace. "…I was part of the band of Hunters who were to find the children and who was taking them. Before the last child went missing, the trail had always been faint and always came to a dead end. But the last child was clever. He'd bitten his finger, or perhaps his palm, until it bled and left drops of blood for us to follow – splattered on a leaf, smeared on a tree trunk, or staining a blade of tall grass. We followed the trail further up into the mountains, where the clouds touch rock. There, we found a cave."

The muscles beneath Zevran's fingertips began to tense again. The blond ceased his actions and he waited, still and silent. Tension seemed to quiver in the air itself.

"…Knowing it would be a battle in close quarters, we crept quietly into the cave, intending to ambush whoever was inside. It was mages, the kind whose magic are fuelled by blood and corruption. What do the humans call them?"

"Maleficar."

"Yes. It was a coven. They were using the children for their rituals, butchering them in exchange for power from their demon lords." Mjolnir rolled his shoulder a little and Zevran returned to massaging it. "There were thirteen of these maleficar, busy slaughtering a new child. Not one of ours, she was human - they must have taken her from one of the small villages on the mountain. We were too late to rescue our children, much too late. Their corpses were strewn among the others on the ground. There were… many bodies. They had been in that cave for a long time."

The wind whistled and the flame in the lantern guttered. Mjolnir turned to look at it, his profile gilded by the flame light.

"It was… chaos. My clan mates struck first and killed five mages outright, but that left eight. That was more than enough. Two of them were bound to demons and became abominations. They slaughtered half our group before they were killed. I had never been in battle before, let alone against mages - I killed no one in that cave, but wounded some. One after the other, my comrades and the mages struck each other down, and soon it was just me and two mages left. One hit me with a spell, a streak of lightning." Mjolnir touched a small patch of scar tissue just above his hip. "It knocked me off my feet, made my body writhe uncontrollably as pain seared my hip. The mages fled down the mountain and into the woods."

"But they did not get away." Zevran said quietly, both hands massaging a stubbornly bunched muscle.

"…No, they did not. Exhausted, aching, bleeding, I followed their trail and found one mage lying, just as exhausted and bloodied as I, in a dried up riverbed. The mage… he begged me not to kill him. He had no demon bound to him and was too weak to spill anymore of his blood to fuel spells. I brought my boot down on his neck and planted an arrow in his skull."

Zevran was not in the least bit surprised. From the moment they met, he had the Warden pegged as one who wouldn't balk when unpleasant things had to be done.

"The other mage was much harder to track down. He was more fit than his comrade. He evaded me for a whole day before I finally caught up with him. This one… did not beg. He bragged of his power and taunted me with details of the rituals, how the children had screamed and cried for their mamaes. He tossed balls of flame in every direction, hoping to burn me out of my hiding place." The elf touched his knee, a barely visible circular scar there. "I was kneeling. The grass beneath me was on fire, but I didn't move. I waited until the mage stepped into my line of sight and shot him through the neck. I was nearly caught in the forest fire the mage had started, but Mythal favoured me - I came upon a river and was able to swim to safety."

Again, Mjolnir went quiet. The only sound in the tent was the lantern flame fluttering in the breeze. Zevran fully expected them to be done talking for the night, but the Warden surprised him once more:

"…Your first kill. Tell me of it."

Mjolnir was asking him a personal question? He was making progress! "It was nothing as noble as yours. I was assigned to kill a Rivaini merchant prince."

"By your Crows," Mjolnir said.

"Quite right, Warden," Zevran's hands moved lower, now working on the Dalish's shoulder blade. "I stole into his bedchambers in the dead of night and found him wearing only a smile and single jewelled earring." Mjolnir nodded slightly, to show that he was listening. "He knew why I had come and planned to seduce me then kill me when my guard was down. He was quite a skilled lover, but I am not so easily distracted…"

"I do not understand." The Dalish said. "You had sex with this man? The one you were sent to kill?"

"And why not? A little pleasure before trying to kill one another is always nice."

"You are… a strange man."

Zevran chuckled, "Oh, you have no idea."

"So, you killed this… prince?"

"I did."

"Why was he wanted dead?"

Zevran shrugged, "The Masters do not tell us why. A good Crow does as he - or she - is told."

"I see."

"How does that feel?" The blond asked, releasing Mjolnir's shoulder.

Mjolnir rolled his shoulder. No white hot sting of pain, no tension. His shoulder felt almost… good for the first time since he'd been wounded. "It feels much better, thank-you."

"You are most welcome." Zevran said, wiping his hands clean with a rag from his pack.

The Dalish stretched, his back crackling, and he turned to face Zevran. "The day will be long tomorrow, I suggest we get some sleep."

"No watch?"

Mjolnir shook his head, "The animals left only wish to survive and I will sense any corrupted approaching."

Zevran shivered a little as he and Mjolnir stripped off the rest of their clothes and armor, stowing everything in a corner of the tent. The Dalish was right; the temperature had already dropped a few degrees while they'd been talking. He rubbed his hands together to warm them.

Unbeknownst to Zevran, Mjolnir was studying him out the corner of his eye; the Dalish was just as curious about this rather... unusual city elf as Zevran was about him. The man had very few scars, but Mjolnir wouldn't expect an assassin – especially one good at his job – to have many scars. But what really caught his attention were the curved tattoos on Zevran's chest and hips. They were the same color as the markings on his face and quite… striking.

"Your tattoos… they are a rite of passage?" He asked, still without looking directly at Zevran. Normally, he wouldn't ask so many questions, but there was just… something about Zevran. He wanted to know more.

Zevran considered giving Mjolnir the spiel about the tattoos being sacred symbols to the Crows, but decided that, even if the Dalish believed him, it wouldn't impress him. Mjolnir wasn't a starry-eyed barmaid or page looking for a quick tryst with a romanticized idea of an assassin. Zevran opted for the truth. "For some, yes, they can be. For me, they are not. They are merely there to accentuate the lines of the body… its curves and musculature."

"Fascinating," Mjolnir replied. Zevran was amazed to realize that the Dalish meant it. There was no trace of feigned interest.

"If I recall my short time with the Dalish correctly, you tattoo your faces when you come of age, yes?"

Mjolnir nodded, finally turning his head to look at his companion. "Our blood is mixed into the ink. The Keeper… looks into us – I do not know the human equivalent of that – and determines the design the Gods have chosen for us. My design represents Mythal the Great Protector, a kind and severe entity." The elf frowned suddenly and reached out, taking one of Zevran's hands in his and drawing it toward him. "These…" He ran his fingers over faded scars on Zevran's wrist. "These are… restraint marks."

"Yes, well, being initiated into the Crows requires one to be… resilient to pain."

Mjolnir looked up at him, still frowning. There was no trace of that reddish sheen in his eyes now; they were very dark, gleaming like polished stone. Zevran felt a little shiver tickle up his spine, knowing that he was likely seeing the last thing that maleficar lying in the riverbed had seen. "I am liking your Crows less and less."

"It could have been worse, Warden. Much worse," Zevran said, withdrawing his hand from Mjolnir's grip.

The wind outside rose to a scream and the tent's sides flapped frantically as a draft of freezing air washed over the two men.

"…It is time to sleep." Mjolnir said. "Would you like to be on the outside or inside?"

"Outside," In truth, Zevran had no preference. He merely wanted to see if the Warden would object.

He didn't. Mjolnir merely lay down, waiting for Zevran to join him. The blond crawled over and gathered Mjolnir into his arms, pressing his chest to Mjolnir's scarred back. The Dalish put out the light and pulled the covers right up over their heads. It wasn't long before they had a warm, cozy little den to fall asleep in.

Because of his night vision, the darkness was never absolute and Mjolnir lay quietly, staring into the green-hued gloom. Usually he slept with a dagger tucked neatly beneath him, but he didn't want to accidentally stab Zevran in the middle of the night if – when – he had a nightmare. His dagger was close enough for him to dart out of bed and grab just in case, but for once its familiar shape was not pressing into his ribs. Instead he had Zevran's hand splayed on his chest, the man's fingers absently sweeping back and forth over a long-healed wound. Mjolnir burrowed a little more firmly against Zevran, sharing his warmth, and closed his eyes.

The silver moon was so large and swollen it seemed to Yggdrasil that it took up the whole sky. The moon would soon be covered, however. Clouds filled with the sharp, silvery scent of snow were slowly approaching. An uneasy whine sounded in the hound's throat. He missed his Dalish Master, and he didn't trust that Crow Elf. The Crow Elf had cut his Master's face, had tried to kill him. Just the thought of that grinning, blond scallywag brought a rumbly growl up from his belly.

A scent, dark burgundy in color and smelling of spice and smoke, wafted over the Mabari. He thumped his stubby tail. It was the Qunari. He liked the Qunari. He was a little bit like his Dalish Master: quiet, stern, but kind. The Qunari sat beside him and offered a bit of almond cookie. Yggdrasil gobbled the sweet, crumbly delight right out of his friend's hand and thumped his tail again. The Qunari still said nothing, but his mouth twitched and his scent brightened a little. That meant he was smiling.

Yggdrasil twisted around, looking over the others in the camp, making sure that they were behaving themselves. The Sister was sitting by the fire with something that made soothing noises when she plucked at its shiny strings. The Man was also sitting by the fire, listening to the noises while he ate. The Lady of Stone was listening too, but pretending she wasn't. The Mage wasn't listening to the noises or eating. She was grinding up a plant that had a noxious green scent and grumbling under her breath about Fools. The hound turned back to look out over the snow. Under the moonlight, it shone a brilliant white, but there was still a thin, grey mist hovering just above it. Death. It would be a very long time before the grey scent was gone completely.

Alistair ate his dinner with great vigour. When he worried, he got hungry. The man dipped a slice of bread in the dregs of his stew and nibbled at it like a rabbit. Across the fire, Leliana idly strummed her lute, having already finished her supper. She glanced up at him and smiled. Alistair couldn't tell if it was mischief or the reflection of the flames he saw dancing in her eyes. Maybe a bit of both…

"You know, Alistair, there are many great tales of lost kings who return to their lands to reign in glory."

Alistair snorted and mopped up the remains of his stew with his bread. "I am not lost nor, for that matter, a king. And there's nothing glorious about me."

"You are Maric's son; you are the rightful king of Ferelden."

"I am the son of a star-struck maid and an indiscreet man who just happened to be king." He sighed, "Look, I can't be king. Some days I have trouble figuring out which boot goes on which foot."

"Complete fools are made leaders of kingdoms all the time, and you're not a complete fool." Leliana said, ignoring Morrigan's contemptuous "tcha!" from somewhere behind her.

"What an utter relief." Alistair said, also ignoring Morrigan's exclamation.

The woman's smile widened. It was definitely mischief shining in her eyes. "And don't worry about the boots. Kings don't need to dress themselves. That's what advisors are for, isn't it?"

"And star-struck maids, apparently," Alistair stared into his bowl, feeling slightly sick. "I think I'm going to turn in… Let Sten know he's on first watch."

The mischief was gone from Leliana's expression. Her brow knitted with concern, but she said nothing as Alistair vanished into his tent.

The man set his bowl aside - he'd wash it tomorrow - and began undressing, stomach churning the entire time. Contrary to what Morrigan believed, he was not an idiot. He knew that Arl Eamon, as soon as he was well, would want him to challenge Loghain for the throne. Eamon and Teagan had a claim through marriage, but he, Alistair, had Theirin blood and that held a lot of clout. That was the reason he'd been shunted aside and trodden on for most of his life, after all. Sighing, Alistair crawled under his blanket, pulling it over his head. What a fine mess they were in.

* * *

The towering pines that had impressed Mjolnir on his first trip to Ostagar were now so laden with snow that their boughs bent under the weight. Snowdrifts taller than any man were piled in every corner and nook of the ruins. The Tower of Ishal, the place where Mjolnir was certain he had died or come very close to it, was still standing but a few of the top floors had crumbled. A sprinkling of glittering snow lay over the charred ballista and trees. The sky arching above it all was a uniform silvery-grey. Ostagar looked silent, serene, deserted. Mjolnir knew better. He could sense the darkspawn's presence, at least fifty of the creatures.

He and Zevran were standing, up to their knees in snow, on a mountainous ridge to the east of the ruins. Although Mjolnir had excellent vision, he still wished he had remembered to ask Sten for his spyglass. The Dalish squinted, trying to catch a glimmer of motion. Were the darkspawn underground? Or did they sense him and were lying in wait?

"Perhaps we could sneak down there…?" Zevran raised his eyebrows questioningly as he trailed off.

Mjolnir shook his head, "No, I believe that the darkspawn know we are here. There are too many for us to handle."

"So the legends are true then. Wardens can sense darkspawn and the creatures can sense you right back."

"Yes."

"Then what are we to do?"

What they had to do was observe the entirety of the ruins, looking for possible traps and ambush sites, and get a feel of what awaited them. The problem was the valley that cleaved Ostagar in half. Navigating it would slow them down. Mjolnir beckoned to Zevran and headed away from the ruins, moving silently through the deep snow.

They were carefully making their way down a slope into the valley when a loud, grinding roar echoed off the mountains. Zevran thought it was an Ogre at first, but noticed that while Mjolnir was alert, he hadn't drawn his weapon.

"Snow fall," Mjolnir said.

_Avalanche._Zevran's mind provided the human word.

"Excellent," He sighed.

The corners of Mjolnir's mouth twitched slightly, "We are in no danger here. The snow is not yet deep enough to bury us – not completely, at least."

"Good to know."

They continued on, climbing down the slope onto what had been the battlefield. The vast field had an unnerving, empty feeling. There were only a few picked-over bodies poking up out of the snow, most of them corpses of fallen Mabari. Crows and fat ravens hopped, flapped, and cackled, picking at bones and flesh nearly frozen solid. Spilled blood had dried and frozen to a tacky, reddish-brown glaze.

"They took the bodies." Zevran murmured.

The Dalish grunted softly in agreement. A flock of ravens took flight, leaving a few glossy black feathers behind, as the two elves passed them. The air was still and unmoving. The only sound was the cackling of the scavenging birds and the soft crunch of the elves' footsteps.

Mjolnir stopped suddenly, tensing, eyes riveted to the bridge high above. He looked like a deer that had scented a predator. Zevran stopped as well, glancing up at the bridge. It was impossible to see anything from down in the valley, but Zevran had no doubt that there was… something up there – something watching them. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as gooseflesh rippled down his arms.

Mjolnir closed his eyes lightly, opening up his mind, reaching out to touch the unseen entity. There was bloodlust and hatred, but also madness, agony, and- a pain unlike Mjolnir had ever felt before ripped through his head. It felt like a fist-sized rock had punched through his skull. Red and black blooms burst in his vision as his knees buckled-

The elf inhaled sharply and his eyes flew open. Everything was different. He was no longer on the battlefield. He was lying on his back in the woods, staring up at scrubby pines. Although he lay on the snow, his cloak slightly damp, he was toasty warm. Soft snowflakes landed on his face and stuck in his eyelashes. The light in the sky was much dimmer. A face appeared over him. Zevran.

"Warden?"

The Dalish blinked, his mind felt sluggish, covered in spider webs. "…W-where…?"

"Your darkspawn did not like being sensed, I think. One moment you were standing, and the next blood gushed from your nose and you passed out cold. I brought you into the woods, where there is cover in case anything followed us. There has been nothing so far."

"How… how long?" Mjolnir tried to sit up. Zevran gently but firmly pushed him back down.

"The morning is almost gone."

The Dalish ran a shaking hand over his face. Nearly five hours he'd been unconscious. He touched his nose. It was sore and swollen, but not caked with blood. Zevran must have cleaned his face for him. There was a soft crackling sound and the smell of pine smoke drifted over Mjolnir. He turned his head to see that Zevran had built a small fire.

"Here," Zevran helped Mjolnir sit up and he brought a waterskin to the Dalish's lips.

Mjolnir drank the sweet, ice cold water gratefully, not minding in the slightest that it hurt his throat. When he'd had his fill, he leaned against Zevran, resting his smarting head on the man's shoulder. Zevran wondered if they should just call it a day and set up camp.

"I need to rest, but we will continue on." Mjolnir said, answering Zevran's unasked question. It was kind of eerie sometimes, how he seemed to just pluck thoughts right out of one's head.

The Dalish bowed his head, allowing himself to float in the limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness, letting his thoughts come and go as they willed. Zevran could have quite easily left him at the mercy of the darkspawn. Five hours was more than enough time for a lot of terrible things to happen. But, Zevran hadn't left. He'd retreated into the woods, cleaned Mjolnir up, and kept him warm. Mjolnir knew that a few of their companions would be stunned by this, but he was not. He had certain suspicions about the assassin since they first… met. Fighting Zevran during the ambush had been like fighting two very different people. One a fierce fighter who wanted to kill, who reveled in the hunt and blood, the other seemed quite content to be cut down, to die. Mjolnir thought perhaps Zevran had grown tired of the Crows, but it felt like something more than that…

Mjolnir's body twitched and he raised his head. Zevran was still supporting him in a sitting position, one arm wrapped around his shoulders. In his other hand, Zevran absently twirled one of his daggers while he scanned the forest for signs of trouble.

"Welcome back."

The Dalish was disconcerted to see that the sky had darkened even further and the snow was falling much faster now. It had only felt like a few moments had passed.

"How long?" He asked, rooting around for the waterskin.

"Just an hour," Zevran said, handing the waterskin to Mjolnir.

Mjolnir took a sip of water, some of it slopping down his chin. "We should carry on."

"Can you?"

"Yes."

It did take some effort to get to his feet, though. Grunting, shaking his head sharply when Zevran offered his hand, Mjolnir struggled to his feet. His head swam a little and the ground seemed to spin beneath him, but it passed quickly.

"…Zevran," Mjolnir's hand reached out, hesitated slightly, then lightly gripped Zevran's arm, "Ma serannas."

"I am always at your service, Warden." Zevran grinned, very much liking how his name sounded coming from Mjolnir's mouth.

They dumped snow on the fire, snuffing out the smoldering flames, and continued on their way.

The pair gave Ostagar a wide berth, keeping Mjolnir out of the range of the darkspawn's senses. A crow fluttered down and hopped around on the snow, croaking at them as they trudged up the hill. The wind was starting to pick up a little; another storm was on its way.

The Tower of Ishal loomed to their left as they climbed, looking brilliantly white against the grey sky. When Mjolnir, standing beside Duncan, had first looked up at that marvel of stone there had been tiny white birds circling the top. Now, there was nothing. The crows and ravens seemed to avoid it instinctually. A little chill slipped down into the elf's belly. Sometimes in his nightmares he felt the darkspawn's arrows pierce his throat and chest.

They were level with the bridge now. Mjolnir cast a glance at it, but the creature – it had been the darkspawn general, the creature Tamlen warned him about - was long gone. There was something on the bridge, but it was impossible to tell what from this distance. His shoulder hurt a little when he looked at that distant, indiscernible shape. Frowning, he turned his gaze from it.

Zevran felt his feet slip on a patch of ice and was just picturing himself sliding all the way back down the hill on his head when Mjolnir clasped him simply, lightly, by the back of the neck, steadying him. Zevran hid his astonishment. He'd pulled ahead of Mjolnir, and the last time he'd looked over his shoulder the elf had been fairly far back. Mjolnir could move more swiftly and silently than he'd thought. The Dalish said nothing, but his slightly lifted eyebrows asked a simple question: _Are you all right?_

"Thank-you, Warden."

Mjolnir nodded, released Zevran, and continued on his way. The blond watched him climb for a little bit then followed after. After their first night at camp, Mjolnir hadn't said more than a handful of words at a time. It was as though he had a limit as to how much he could speak. Irritating behavior to some, Zevran supposed, but not to him. He understood that silence was merely a part of Mjolnir and, as he'd seen before, the Dalish didn't always need words to speak anyway.

It began to snow shortly after they reached the top of the valley. Mjolnir veered toward Ostagar, wincing slightly as the sense jabbed him between the eyes. When he learned what he needed to know – that most of the darkspawn were holed up inside the Tower of Ishal – he moved out of range. A glance at the sky told him that the afternoon was quickly slipping away. They would have to find high ground, take one last look at Ostagar, then get as far away from the ruin as they could before night fell.

Neither elf spoke as they moved through the woods. They had left the cackling crows behind and there was only the soft whisper of snow as it settled on the branches overhead. Mjolnir quickened his pace; if the snow fell any thicker they wouldn't be able to see Ostagar.

The Dalish's concern was unwarranted. Although shadows had begun to turn the sky a dark, cobalt blue and the snow fell steadily, he and Zevran could see the ruins quite well when they emerged from the forest onto a sheer cliff that faced Ostagar. There was still no activity among the stone and snowdrifts. Not even one darkspawn out in the open.

"What do you think?" Zevran asked, pulling his hood up over his head.

Mjolnir nodded to himself in a thoughtful sort of way. He could see that the darkspawn had not prepared for their enemy returning. There were no traps or creatures lying in wait. His sense of the number of darkspawn hadn't changed either; there were fifty of them. If they didn't all attack at once – and Mjolnir thought they wouldn't – they could be easily handled by their group. It was possible that the darkspawn would prepare while he and Zevran returned to the others, but he thought not. He had touched the darkspawn general's mind, there was only madness there now. He doubted that preparation would even enter the creature's mind.

"Retrieving the sword is definitely achievable. However, for the moment, we will make camp as far away from this place as possible. In the morning, we will return to base camp."

* * *

**TBC**


End file.
